


A Matter of Trust

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An abused Guide gets a second chance of happiness - whether he wants it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on 6/6/2012, this story has been tidied up a little for re-posting. Although I have used the Rape/Non-Con warning, again most of the abuse occurred before the beginning of this tale. Having said that, readers should be aware that there are elements within which could be construed as dubious consent. Just so you know!
> 
> K x

**Part 1: Trust Issues:**   


Detective Jim Ellison rubbed a hand over his face and ground his teeth together in an effort not to groan aloud at the incessant chatter and buzz of noise around him. It wasn’t that the Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit’s bullpen was any noisier than usual; just the normal telephone conversations, interviews, occasional banter and the click of computer keys; but to the newly-online Sentinel it was sheer hell. Somehow managing to contain the automatic flinch at the gentle touch to his shoulder, Jim turned to meet the worried gaze of his friend Joel Taggart, formerly Captain of the Bomb Squad, and now seconded to the MCU. 

The rather portly African American was a kind and gentle man, and his open face reflected his genuine sympathy as he addressed Jim. 

“You OK, Jim?” he said, speaking softly in deference to Jim’s spiking hearing. 

“You look as if your senses are troubling you again. Can I get you a drink or something? Or do you need some painkillers?” 

Smiling faintly in gratitude for the older man’s concern, Jim replied, “No thanks, Joel, but thanks for asking. It’s not time for me to dose myself up again yet, unless I want to be doped up for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve been trying to practice the methods of control the Sentinel and Guide Department docs explained to me, but I guess I haven’t got the knack yet,” and he grimaced ruefully as he cringed from the shrill sound of his telephone ringing. 

“Well, take it easy,” responded Joel, still frowning anxiously. “You never know, perhaps you’ll be able to find a Guide before too long, then you’ll be able to get back in control properly.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” replied Jim wryly. “And pigs might fly,” he added with a feeble attempt at humour. 

“Anyhow, better answer this,” he said, eyeing the instrument with marked reluctance. “Later, Joel.” 

“Yeah, later, Jim,” murmured Joel sadly as he turned away and made his way back to his desk. 

Jaw clenched in a determined effort to pull his wayward senses under control again, Jim reached for the handset and snapped, “Ellison!” only to be completely taken aback at what his caller had to tell him.  


\---------------------------  


Jim had been aware of his latent ability since childhood, but had managed to repress his gift on more than one occasion over the years, having no desire to be beholden to a Guide in order to maintain control of his senses. However, it would appear that this time he was fully on-line, and likely to remain so. 

Sentinels were individuals who, through a natural genetic variation, had anything from one to five senses enhanced, with Alphas like Jim having all five. They were much prized as valued members of society, usually gravitating towards services such as medicine, the military, law enforcement and fire departments. 

However, as in all walks of life, there were one or two individuals who turned out to be bad apples who used their talents for self-gratification or criminal activities. 

Although Sentinels could learn to control their senses by themselves to a certain extent, especially if they had embraced their gift since childhood, late ‘developers’ such as Jim had a much harder time of it, and were in constant danger of overloading on the input of so much sensory information. Spiking senses or ‘zone-outs’ caused through losing oneself in one sense to the exclusion of all else left Sentinels vulnerable without the help of a companion or Guide to watch their backs and provide a baseline with which they could ground themselves: someone who could use their own talents to support their Sentinel while the pair worked in difficult situations, and who could bring him or her out of such fugue states if and when they occurred. 

Guides had long been recognised for their value in their own right, ever since Sentinels - or Guardians as they were sometimes called - had been studied in pre-industrialised societies. However, they had not always enjoyed the same respect and privileges as their Sentinels, such that not every potential Guide chose to come forward and make themselves available. 

Because true Guides with high empathy ratings were rarer than Sentinels in the first place, this reticence was deemed by some governments and ruling bodies to be potentially detrimental to society as a whole. It was believed that many Sentinels would be left with no hope of real control without bonding with a compatible Guide, leaving them dependent on medication to help them through the worst side-effects of sensory overload, and thereby diminishing their contribution to society. The situation had become so troubling that a few years previously the newly formed Sentinel and Guide Department had introduced mandatory screening for children reaching school age in order to determine potential for both Sentinel and Guide capability. The results were then entered into the relevant databases and rated according to ability so that compatible pairs could be brought together as soon as possible. 

Naturally, however, there were always going to be individuals who slipped through the net for one reason or another, or who were prepared to leave the country rather than tie themselves for life to one person, wanting above all to retain their freedom of choice. 

Aware of all this information, and never having wanted to be reliant on a Guide, Jim had hoped to keep his ability repressed indefinitely. He was already a more than capable and competent detective without the benefit of enhanced senses, and it suited him to retain his preference for working – and living – alone and unencumbered by a partner of any sort. However, unfortunately for Jim, during a lone and protracted stake-out in a recent case his senses had come on-line with a vengeance, and he had come to the reluctant conclusion that he had no choice but to seek professional help. 

Encouraged by his friend and boss, Captain Simon Banks, Jim contacted the Sentinel and Guide Department, and even attended a few ‘mixers’ aimed at bringing compatible Sentinel and Guides together, but with little luck so far. However, he was constantly assured by all parties that he would be contacted the moment a potential candidate was located, even though he personally had precious little confidence that one would ever be found. 

He was completely dumbfounded therefore when, upon answering his telephone, his caller turned out to be none other than the Director of the local Sentinel and Guide Department himself, wanting to inform Jim in person that a possible Guide had been brought to their attention, but that there were complications to consider. 

“What kind of ‘complications?’” demanded Jim irritably; trying to absorb everything the Director was telling him. “She either is or isn’t compatible. Is she pregnant or something? Or doesn’t she like Sentinels or men in general?” 

“Ah, well, you see, Detective Ellison, the Guide - Blair Sandburg - is actually a young man. And he’s still in rehab after being abused by his first Sentinel. But he is a highly rated empath, and theoretically compatible with an Alpha such as yourself. All I ask is that you come to the Department to see for yourself...” the Director added in his most persuasive tone. 

Instinctively wanting to tell the man what he could do with his offer of a Guide with ‘complications’, Jim flinched once again at the sudden agonising bolt of pain in his head caused by someone dropping a couple of box files on the other side of the bullpen. Getting himself back under some sort of control with a gargantuan effort, he forced himself to respond to the Director’s worried queries, knowing that he truly was desperate enough to try anything after all. 

With a resigned sigh he murmured, “OK, sir. What time should I come to the Department...?”  


\----------------------  


**Sentinel and Guide Department Medical Wing, later that afternoon:**  


A little less than two hours’ later saw Jim seated in front of Director Wallace’s wide mahogany desk, positively revelling in the comfort offered by the Sentinel-friendly environment of the Cascade Sentinel and Guide Department. For the first time that day, he was able to relax, knowing that the low-stimulus building had been designed specifically to accommodate Sentinels in virtually any condition, good or bad. Smiling in genuine relief, he met Director Wallace’s eyes as he said, “Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Director Wallace. I think my Captain had the right of it when he told me to ‘get my ass over here and see what this Guide is like!’ I had hoped that things would never get this bad, but the last few days have been hell, I have to admit,” and his handsome face clouded for a moment in recollection. 

“I don’t really know why, after nearly forty years of control, I should suddenly come fully online. But I guess I have to accept it, and all the accompanying consequences if I want to carry on with my job at the PD. 

“So, what can you tell me about this Blair Sandburg?” and he sat back, fixing the other man with a piercing and inquisitive gaze. 

Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts and get his arguments in order, Director Wallace rested his chin on his linked hands as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. He had dealt with many different situations involving Sentinels and Guides in his years as Director, but Detective Ellison certainly posed a particularly unique and intriguing - and potentially difficult case – like nothing he had ever previously undertaken. 

The man was a handsome specimen, buff and tall, with intelligence sparking from his light blue eyes. He had served in the military for several years with distinction, earning high praise for his courage under fire and in special ops, only resigning his commission after a particularly badly-botched assignment where he was the only survivor from his team. 

Joining Cascade PD, he had quickly gained his gold shield, and had worked his way through a stint in Vice before taking his place in the elite Major Crimes Unit where he had rapidly made his presence felt with solid and intelligent police work and an arrest and conviction record to be proud of. Indeed, he had managed to be presented with the ‘Cop of the Year Award’ for the past two years running, despite his apparent reluctance to be pushed under the spotlight, so to speak. 

Undoubtedly he had made use of his gifts of heightened senses, but only sparingly until he had suddenly found himself fully online, and now he was suffering from the lack of a Guide’s backup. Such backup was of particular importance to an Alpha Sentinel like Jim, since the flip side of having such strong senses meant that he needed the help of a highly-rated and talented Guide to enable him to control and balance sensory input. 

Once such a pair was established, their contribution to society had the potential to be immense. 

Unfortunately, unbonded Guides of the necessary calibre were few and far between, so that even a seriously damaged candidate like Blair Sandburg could not be allowed to be overlooked while an Alpha remained unpaired and in trouble. 

And Director Wallace was determined that he would remedy the situation whether Sentinel or Guide liked it or not. 

Smiling reassuringly, Wallace began his spiel, hoping against hope that what he related wouldn’t serve to alienate his listener before Ellison even laid eyes on the Guide in question. He was unaware that Jim had already subliminally noted the presence nearby of some very special person – one whose very scent and sound beckoned to the primal Sentinel within even before he had met his – yes, HIS - Guide. 

Pulling a thick file from the tray on his desk, Wallace began by pulling out a candid head-and-shoulders snapshot of a young man, which he handed over to Jim. 

“This is Blair Sandburg, taken a couple of years ago while he was still at Rainier University. I think you’ll agree that he is a very attractive young man,” he said before sitting back to see what reaction the photograph engendered in the other man. 

Staring at the picture, brow creased in concentration, Jim was certainly surprised at what he saw. The young face positively glowed with happiness, huge blue eyes sparkling with glee and gaze slightly averted; obviously unaware of the photographer’s presence or intentions. Sandburg’s dark auburn hair hung in shining curls down to his shoulders, and the lush-lipped mouth was stretched wide in a happy grin displaying even white teeth. A neat, slightly tip-tilted nose and firm jaw completed a face that was both beautiful and masculine, and Jim shifted a little in his seat as his groin suddenly took a completely unexpected interest in the view. Sentinel vision also picked out two gold hoops in the lobe of one well-shaped ear, and Jim found himself almost drooling at the sight, even though he would never have expected such a reaction in himself. 

Sure, he was comfortable with his bisexuality, as were many Sentinels, but his previous male partners had always been similar specimens to himself – buff and military-looking – and definitely no more than buddies who could be called upon on occasion to scratch a mutual itch without ties or unwanted proclamations of undying love. 

This young man, however, called to him on a completely different level, and he didn’t care whether it was a Sentinel / Guide thing, or a potential Jim / Blair thing. He just knew that he wanted the young man for his own more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, and that included his short and unsuccessful foray into marriage with Carolyn Plummer, the head of Cascade PD’s Forensics Department. 

Nevertheless, his intuition warned him that nothing was likely to be straight-forward under the circumstances, and he sat back in his seat, face assuming a stoic expression, waiting to hear what Director Wallace had to tell him about the Guide’s ‘complications’. 

Reassured to a certain extent by the positive reactions he had seen in Ellison so far, Wallace decided that he may as well get the worst aspect of the discussion over with immediately, so he retrieved a further set of photographs from the file – those taken immediately after Blair’s rescue from his previous Sentinel. 

“I’m glad that you seem to like what you saw in the first photo, Jim,” he began. “I’m sure you’ll agree that Blair was a happy and appealing youngster in his student days. But I would be remiss if I led you to believe that he looks like that at present, even though I am convinced that, with plenty of care and attention, he could regain some of his previous _joie de vivre,”_ and he handed over the more recent shots with noticeable reluctance. 

He wasn’t surprised at the sharp intake of breath and angry scowl that immediately graced Jim’s face when he looked at the pictures, but he was somewhat worried about the almost feral growl which came from deep in the Sentinel’s throat. Uncertain as to whether Jim’s reaction could be read as a good or a bad sign, he held his peace, not wanting to influence the Sentinel unnecessarily one way or the other. 

As for Jim, he was having an incredibly hard time controlling his adverse reaction to the almost tangible hurt and despair that stared out at him from the pictures in his hands, and his need to cherish and protect the Guide grew exponentially as he continued to study them. 

Sandburg’s most recent head shot showed a dull-eyed and blank-faced man whose unkempt and greasy locks were apparently much longer than before, and scraped back in an untidy ponytail at Blair’s nape. His skin was pallid, face far thinner, with high cheekbones standing out in sharp relief against his sunken cheeks, and the lush mouth was now hard and down-turned in a desperate and sullen expression. The beautiful eyes were empty of anything but traces of fear and old pain, and ringed with fading bruises, while it didn’t take Sentinel vision to see that there were newly-healed scars on Blair’s jaw, nose and brow, probably caused by several blows from a hand wearing one or more sharp-edged rings. The hoops had gone from the young man’s ear, and the long and elegant neck bore the scars and abrasions from some sort of collar, now removed. 

Further shots showed a too-thin body marked with many new and also fading bruises and superficial injuries, including apparent cigarette burns and welts old and new from repeated whipping, probably with a belt. It was also more than likely that the Guide had suffered broken bones on more than one occasion. 

Aghast at what he was witnessing, Jim tore his eyes from the damning photographs and ground out, “Tell me he’s dead. The other Sentinel. Or tell me where he is, and I’ll do it myself!” 

Meeting Ellison’s steely-eyed gaze with a steady one of his own, genuine sympathy and understanding suffusing his expression, Wallace murmured, “She. His previous Sentinel was a female who called herself Alex Barnes among other aliases. And yes, she’s dead. She was killed in a shoot-out with the FBI in Seattle after she stole two canisters of nerve gas from Rainier University campus. She was trying to sell it to some gang boss.” 

Face clearing as he nodded in understanding, Jim replied, “I remember now. Simon – Captain Banks, that is – wasn’t best pleased when the FBI cut us out from following up on that robbery. I knew the perp was some woman, aided and abetted by a male partner, but I had no idea she was a Sentinel. The fibbies kept that well under wraps! 

“So, how did she get hold of Sandburg? He can’t have gone with her willingly!” he stated with certainty. 

“No, he didn’t, Jim. He was kidnapped off campus two years ago, and seemed to vanish without trace. And I think this is the point where I need to give you a potted history of the young man’s life so far....”  


\------------------  


Some short while later, Jim was desperately trying to absorb far more information regarding the young Guide than he was comfortable with, while struggling to reconcile conflicting emotions. He was torn between sympathy for the ill-treatment meted out to the hapless ex-student, a sincere wish that he could have been the one to rip Barnes apart for her unnatural cruelty, and a very real desire to leave the building right now before he could be drawn any further into an apparently impossible situation. 

Over the past hour or so, Jim had learned that Blair Sandburg was the only child of single mother Naomi Sandburg, herself a latent Guide, and fervent believer in counter-cultures and freedom of choice. Realising that her son most likely had Guide potential, she had travelled far and wide, keeping Blair out of formal education and under the radar away from any screening programmes until such time as he decided for himself that it was time to settle down. 

A genuine genius, the sixteen year old Blair had persuaded his mother to let him test for entry to Rainier University to study Anthropology, and by age twenty he had already achieved his Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Sentinel Studies. Indeed, according to Wallace, he had been well on his way to his doctorate before being kidnapped by Alex Barnes. 

It wasn’t known how she had traced him, or how she had recognised that he had strong Guide potential seeing as he didn’t appear on any databases, but suffice it to say that she had ruthlessly determined to acquire him, snatching him off campus one night as he made his way to the bus stop. 

After forcing him to bond with her, Barnes and her partner-in-crime and live-in lover, Carl Hettinger, had made Blair’s life a misery, treating him as a combination of plaything, whipping boy and living sex-toy when he wasn’t required to help Barnes with her senses, and it didn’t take much imagination for Jim to comprehend the extent of sheer cruelty to which Sandburg had been subjected. 

It was purely by lucky chance that Blair had been rescued. 

According to Director Wallace and the coldly factual description in the file, Blair had been forced to accompany Barnes and Hettinger to the meet with the Seattle gang-lord who had declared an interest in purchasing the nerve gas for whatever nefarious reason, not realising that the FBI were staking out the location. When the trap was sprung, and realising that there was no escape, Barnes had seized Blair, trying to use him as both bargaining chip and human shield, but was taken out by sniper fire (from another Sentinel on the SWAT team) before she could pull the trigger on the pistol held to Blair’s temple. 

Sandburg had been taken to hospital where his many wounds were treated, and blood tests and routine screening had shown him to be a very highly-rated empath. Although they were still uncertain as to the extent of his involvement in Barnes’ criminal activities, the agents concerned in his rescue decided to send him directly to the Sentinel and Guide Department in Cascade for further treatment and assessment, and that is where he had been ever since. 

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Jim realised that Wallace was speaking again. 

“So, there we have it – the situation so far,” he was saying. “I can tell you before you see him for yourself, that Blair’s physical injuries are healing well, and his outward appearance is much improved. The down-side, as far as we’re concerned, is his psychological state. 

“The Sentinel and Guide psychiatric assessment team who have been in charge of him since his admittance here have provided guardedly hopeful reports, but with definite reservations which you should be aware of if you’re to make an informed decision regarding bonding with Blair – both for your own good, and for his. 

“He is perfectly compliant and obedient to any request or instruction. He has submitted to every test and medical procedure to which he has been subjected, and will eat and bathe as requested. 

“However, he refuses to speak – has done ever since his rescue – and his attending psychiatrists are not sure as to whether he is capable of self-harm. 

“They are certain, nevertheless, that he is no danger to anyone but himself. 

“We’re talking about an extremely empathic and gentle young man here, Detective. One who I believe would hurt himself rather than cause harm to any other, despite his appalling treatment. But you need to find that out for yourself, so, if I may, I suggest that we repair to the viewing room so that you can see your possible future Guide for yourself.”  


\-----------------------  


**Viewing Suite, Sentinel and Guide Department Medical Wing:**  


Seated comfortably behind the two-way glass of the mirror in the Viewing Suite, Jim found himself unconsciously tensing up in anticipation as he awaited the arrival of the Guide he had been aware of almost since entering the building. As the door to the adjoining room opened, he leaned forward to catch his first glimpse of the man he was sure was destined to be his companion, and found himself both relieved and shocked at what he saw. 

When Blair was led into the room, guided by a gentle grip on his upper arm by the kind-looking male nurse attending him, it was obvious that the young man was physically in much better shape than in the most recent photographs. His hair, shorter again and clean and shining, fell forward to mask the downturned and averted face, obscuring the features for the moment as he resolutely refused to glance up at the mirror, but his body clearly had a little more meat on it now, and he appeared to be moving fairly easily. 

However, Jim’s relief was tempered by his shock when he registered that the young man was in fact in restraints. True, they weren’t typical of prison-issue chains, but instead comprised of wide, softly-padded cuffs at wrist and ankle, the wrist cuffs attached to a leather belt around Blair’s slender waist by a reasonable length of chain, and the ankle cuffs linked by a tether short enough to prevent running, but designed not to be too restricting at a normal walking pace. 

Nevertheless, Jim swung round furiously to face Director Wallace, who sat just behind him. 

“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “I thought you said he wasn’t considered dangerous?” 

Holding up his hand in a calming gesture, Wallace responded quickly, “And I meant what I said, Detective Ellison! Blair has neither been accused nor convicted of any voluntary role in Barnes’ criminal activities, and he is certainly not considered to be dangerous to anyone else but himself. 

“But he _is_ considered to be a flight risk, Sentinel! And that is the reason he has been restrained while with us. There is every possibility that he will try to run as soon as he gets the chance.” 

“Oh great! Just wonderful!” groaned Jim, subsiding into his seat. “This just keeps getting better and better! 

“So, what you’re saying is that, the moment I take the kid out of here, he’s going to take a hike as soon as my back’s turned?” 

“I don’t think so, Jim,” replied Wallace, face creased in thought. “I mean, I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that. Certainly, he wants to get away from us all right now, even if it means living the rest of his life on medication to dampen his empathy now his natural barriers are gone. Even without voluntary verbal communication, it’s blatantly obvious that he wants nothing to do with another Sentinel, so much so that we haven’t even tried to introduce him to other unbonded Sentinels who don’t have your particular strengths and needs. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the fact that he is so very talented, we probably wouldn’t even be looking at asking him to bond again, but would send him to our long-term Guide Care facility where he would be provided for with other bereaved or injured Guides until considered well enough to be released under medical supervision. 

“However, I believe that, once bonded to you, it will make it much harder for him to leave you, especially once you get to know each other better, and he begins to trust you. He is, after all, a very gifted Guide, genetically hard-wired to help a suffering Sentinel. 

“Trust, Sentinel Ellison, is the crux of the matter. He needs to learn to trust again.”  


\-------------------------  


**Earlier, in another part of the Medical Wing:**  


Blair Sandburg sat on the edge of his twin bed, absently rubbing at the leather cuffs around his wrists. It wasn’t that they hurt. No, his attendant had been painstaking during the fitting so that his barely healed skin wouldn’t get chafed further. But they were an irritation all the same – a reminder that he still wasn’t free, and that in all likelihood his living nightmare was going to continue unless he could prevent it somehow. 

He was well aware that part of his psychiatric profile – compiled by a Sentinel / Guide team, no less – had included a suggestion that he might be leaning towards self-harm, but inwardly he grinned sardonically at the thought. 

No, he had no intention of hurting himself, at least at this point in time. Even at the worst moments during his captivity he had surprised himself with the depth of his desire to survive. But as to running away – hell yeah! So perhaps they were right to restrain him so. Given the opportunity, he intended to get the hell out of Dodge and make his way to one of the support groups his Mom had told him about, where he could obtain medication and a new identity, probably leaving the country for good. 

He deliberately blocked out any thoughts about LBA – ‘Life Before Alex’ – because that way only led to despair and insanity – but could hardly dismiss ‘LWA’. ‘Life With Alex’ was still way too close for comfort, and try as he might to avoid it, the fear and pain was only too easy to recall. 

As soon as he had been hauled bodily into that black van two years ago – (Was it really only that long? Seemed like a whole lifetime) – his life had been stolen from him. Oh sure, he had known about his Guide ability, but had agreed with his mother’s heart-felt beliefs that everyone was entitled to freedom of choice, and no one should be coerced into a lifestyle abhorrent to them just because they showed up on some government database. 

Ironic then that that bitch Alex had sniffed him out anyway, and forced him into the very worst bond imaginable. 

Unable to withstand the extreme mental and physical pressure exerted upon his body and mind by both Alex and Hettinger despite his desperate struggles, Blair had been forced to bond within hours of arriving at her temporary apartment. From that moment on, he was immediately caught in a spiral of pain, fear and humiliation, tormented and traumatised beyond his worst nightmares by Alex and her lover from day one. 

Feeling his chin wobble slightly, he swiftly clamped down on his desire to cry. He simply would _not_ allow it. He had cried almost daily over the last two years. Tears of pain, frustration and shame, and he utterly refused to weep any more. 

Same went for speaking. As far as he was concerned, all he had done while in thrall to Alex was to plead unavailingly for mercy or use his voice to guide her, all the while under extreme duress. Words, which had once been such a delight to him, and such an important tool during his years at Rainier, were now as unwelcome as his tears, and weren’t to be used willingly. 

He knew himself to be hurt and cynical to an extent he would never have believed possible, but as yet was utterly incapable of doing anything to remedy the condition. 

Yes, he admitted that his treatment since Alex’s death had been kind and thoughtful. He had been quickly administered with the drugs necessary to alleviate the shocking agony of the broken bond when his Sentinel died, and the hospital where he was initially admitted had done their best to deal sympathetically with an injured Guide despite his sullen and suspicious non-cooperation. 

Once transferred to the Cascade Sentinel and Guide Department facility, his carers had been unfailingly gentle and patient, but to no avail. He could not – _would_ not – contemplate another bond unless forced once again. Even a half-life of constant medication to dampen his empathy was better than a life chained to another Sentinel. And how sad was that? During his years of study he had learned to admire and even idolise the subjects of his chosen topic, only to find that their ranks contained specimens so flawed that they were capable of the worst imaginable crimes against society. 

Sighing despondently, he rubbed his forehead, hating yet welcoming the drug-induced fuzziness clouding his normally brilliant mind. 

Glancing up suddenly at the knock on his door which preceded his attendant’s – (Carl’s) – entrance, Blair had no need of his presently muted empathy to know that something was afoot. The large man’s swiftly-blanked concern was enough to clue him in to the fact that he wasn’t going to like what the male nurse had to say. 

“Hey, Blair! Got some good news for you,” Carl began, with a totally unconvincing attempt at joviality. Although he received a less-than-appreciative glare from his young charge, he forged ahead enthusiastically anyway. “Director Wallace wants me to take you to the Viewing Suite. He says that a Detective Ellison is here to see you. You never know, he could be the one you’re looking for...” but he tailed off uneasily, discouraged by Blair’s scowling response to his words. 

“Well, anyway, we’d best make tracks,” he finished, knowing that at least the young Guide wouldn’t resist, even if he didn’t approve. 

Ducking his head, Blair stood up, and meekly surrendered to Carls’ gentle but persistent pull on his arm, staring fixedly at his feet as they exited the room and made their way down to the Viewing Suite.  


\----------------  


Once in the Viewing Suite, Blair resolutely refused to look towards the large mirror, knowing that he was being watched, and not prepared to give away anything more of himself than necessary. Despite this small act of defiance, however, he was trembling uncontrollably, and his heart felt as if it was beating so hard it would burst from his chest at any moment. He had truly hoped that he was considered to be so damaged that no Sentinel in his or her right mind would want to take him on, but apparently he was wrong. Behind that mirror-window he just knew there was someone strong enough to claim and bind him for life if he so wished, and Blair’s despair almost overwhelmed him at the thought. 

Steered by Carl over to a fairly comfortable armchair, he allowed himself to be carefully seated, all the while staring at the floor, half-doped mind trying desperately to figure out a way to get out of this situation relatively unscathed.  


\-----------------------  


In the next room, Jim found himself leaning forwards in his seat again, almost touching the window glass as he stared fixedly at the small figure now sitting opposite him, willing the younger man to look up and meet his gaze to no avail. 

Turning back to Wallace, he said firmly, “OK, Director Wallace, let’s get this show on the road. Sandburg’s terrified, and I need to see him – comfort him if I can...” 

Momentarily bemused, Wallace realised that of course the Sentinel would be able to scan his Guide even in this regulated environment, given the necessary desire and determination. Nodding briskly in assent, he rose to his feet and preceded Jim, entering the adjoining room through the electronically controlled panel beside the mirror-window. 

At their entrance, Blair gasped in shock, and involuntarily glanced upwards to see the Director approaching along with one of the most frightening yet attractive men he had ever seen, and for a long moment he didn’t know whether to scream in terrified denial or throw himself at the god-like apparition’s feet. 

Unable to tear his eyes away, he swallowed hard as he studied the tall man. The Sentinel was muscular but graceful, with wide shoulders, a broad chest but narrow waist and hips and long, elegant legs. Michelangelo’s David paled into insignificance beside such a figure, but what captured Blair’s attention was the sculpted patrician face; strong and handsome and lit by a pair of pale blue eyes which were presently gazing fixedly at him as if trying to see into his very soul. 

Feeling like a deer in the headlights, Blair rose shakily to his feet, breaths coming faster and shallower as he headed towards a panic attack such as he hadn’t experienced since Alex’s death. Even as his vision greyed out, he dimly registered the tall man moving quickly towards him, reaching out to catch him as he crumpled in a dead faint. 

As far as Jim was concerned, his impressions over the intervening moments were confused to say the least. 

When the Guide finally looked up to meet his eyes, he was struck anew by the younger man’s beauty, his features ultimately unaffected despite the silvering scars of old injuries which were still obvious, at least to sentinel-enhanced vision. 

Blair’s fear and despair hit Jim like a physical blow, and his own emotions and protective instinct reacted immediately, wanting to comfort and hold the smaller man in a way he had never before experienced with anyone, male or female. 

Scooping up the lax figure as his Guide sank towards the floor, Jim was immediately aware that Sandburg wasn’t as fragile as he appeared, and was gratified to find that in fact he was heavier that the Sentinel expected. Certainly he was still undernourished, but Jim realised that once well-fed, the Guide would be sturdily built, if slender, and no weakling. 

He was also only too aware of the delightful and heady scent emanating from his Guide, despite the disquieting taint of fear. 

Reining back his primal needs only with a huge effort, Jim still managed to address Wallace with some degree of civility. “I need to get my Guide somewhere safe. Now!” 

And Wallace complied with alacrity, punching a button on a small panel on the far wall. 

Jim swung around to see a queen-sized bed drop down from its recess in the wall, fully made up and ready for use. 

“Why don’t you let Blair rest for a while?” the Director murmured, well aware of Jim’s likely reactions to his Guide’s indisposition, and ready to make himself scarce if necessary, jerking his head towards Carl to indicate that the attendant should also get himself out of harm’s way. 

Even as Jim headed towards the bed, laying his Guide carefully down in the centre, Wallace spoke again, keeping his tone non-confrontational and calm. 

“If you’re sure you want to go ahead with this bond, Detective Ellison, please feel free to use this room as a bonding suite. We can have everything you need brought in on request, whenever you need it. Food, drink, fresh clothing, whatever. There is also a small but fully equipped en suite bathroom here,” he continued, indicating a barely-visible door a little further down from the bed, with its own control panel. 

“And I can promise you that viewing will be kept to a minimum. We aren’t into voyeurism, Jim. Just the need to make sure that you are both safe and comfortable. 

“I should be happy to contact your Captain for you, and can promise you our full cooperation. All I ask is that you give Guide Sandburg until tomorrow morning before attempting a full bond. His last dose of dampening medication was administered at breakfast this morning, and he needs the full twenty four hours to get it completely out of his system. 

“As I’m sure you’re already aware, he is going to be in serious pain for a while as his empathy kicks back in, so you will need to bond as soon as you are both able so that you can rebuild his barriers. 

“Are you OK with all this, Sentinel?” he finished, truly hoping that Jim was fully cognisant of the potential problems surrounding a bonding under these circumstances. 

Nodding absently as he was fully focussed on the young man on the bed, Jim muttered, “Yeah, OK. I know what I have to do. Just leave us be now, and I’ll call you when we need anything. Blair’s coming round....”  


\----------------------  


Peripherally aware that the room was clear of everyone but himself and his Guide, Jim sat beside the other man, turning sideways on the edge of the bed so that he could rub Blair’s cold hands and taking the opportunity to really study the younger man, cataloguing everything about him. 

Sandburg was certainly still underweight, but better than Jim had expected, given the photographs he had seen. His face wasn’t quite so drawn, especially in sleep, and the sensual mouth was softer in relaxation, slightly open to allow sweet, gentle breaths to reach Jim’s sensitive nose. 

Longing to taste and map the lush lips, Jim forcibly controlled his urge, diverting his attention to Blair’s tantalising scent, presently untainted by fear as the smaller man enjoyed a short period of untroubled sleep. 

Lowering his head to sniff delicately at the elegant neck behind Blair’s ear, Jim allowed himself one small lick, pulling back to grin and almost purr in contentment at the wonderful taste. 

Reluctantly realising that further sampling would have to wait until they were both approaching bonding heat, he sat back to watch over the Guide while Blair rose gradually towards consciousness again, discovering a patience within him that he had never realised he had. 

Blair’s arms were pale and thin where they protruded from the short sleeves of the scrubs he was wearing, and Jim was well aware of the fading bruises and burns which marred the soft skin. However, he was pleased to note the slender wrists and elegant, capable-looking hands that rested beneath his own slightly larger ones. Sandburg’s ankles were also shapely despite the cuffs half-obscuring them, and ended in small, attractive feet although the soles bore the remnants of healed wounds. 

The deep V neck of the scrub top revealed a glimpse of soft, curling dark chest hair, and Jim knew he was going to enjoy carding his fingers through the silky mat, already imagining the nipples he would find hiding therein. 

Deliberately forcing back the swirls of desire threatening to overtake him, knowing that it wasn’t yet time to indulge himself with exploring Sandburg’s body more thoroughly, Jim brought his gaze back to Blair’s face, noting the small twitches and movements that heralded his return to consciousness, and already preparing himself for the smaller man’s likely emotional and physical responses. 

He wasn’t disappointed. 

As Blair came back to himself, for a fleeting moment he registered that he was comfortable, and that gentle, warm hands were carefully chafing his own. Thoroughly enjoying the unexpected sensation, he lay quiescent for a few seconds longer, happy to soak up the comfort, only to have his memory abruptly kick in once again. Yelping in fear, his body was galvanised into action and he tried to hurl himself off the bed, away from the large figure seated beside him, only to find himself restrained by a firm grip around his waist. 

Struggling wildly in panic, he was aware of powerful arms wrapping around him as he was pulled into the Sentinel’s chest, his back resting firmly against the broad expanse while his already tethered arms were trapped beneath strong forearms and hands. 

Jim knew there was no point in trying to communicate with the terrified young man just yet, so he contented himself with simply holding on until the smaller man exhausted his already depleted energy and stilled within his arms, breaths sobbing in his throat and panting from exertion. 

“OK, Blair. It’s OK,” he murmured repeatedly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Chief. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, OK? Calm down and I’ll let you go,” he continued, as if to a half-wild colt. 

When he finally received a tiny nod of acquiescence, he gradually slackened his hold until Blair was freed from his grasp, and wasn’t surprised when the younger man whipped around to stare at him, eyes wide and plainly still ready to bolt if necessary, but too conditioned to obey a Sentinel’s commands to move away yet. 

Raising his hands in an unthreatening gesture, Jim said, “Look, Chief. I know this is hard for you to understand, but I don’t want to hurt you. I know you’ve already had more hurt than any Guide should have to suffer, and I wish I’d been the one to kill the bitch that caused you so much pain. I just want to talk for now, OK?” 

Although Blair didn’t reply, Jim was pleased that at least the young Guide seemed to be listening to him, eyes telegraphing a mixture of fear, puzzlement and a tinge of curiosity, so he ploughed on with his explanation. 

“I guess you already realise that I’m an Alpha, huh? And I should tell you that I only came fully on-line a few weeks ago, so I’ve never had need of a Guide until now. And I’m already sick of having to depend on suppressants to control my senses. I can’t work like that! But I haven’t had any joy with finding a Guide capable of helping me. 

“I know you are a top-level empath, Chief, and have the ability to ground me if you want to. All I can say is that I want – _need_ – to bond with you, and I want to try and make this work for both of us.” 

He wasn’t really surprised at the Guide’s reaction to his speech, as the expressions and emotions chasing themselves across Blair’s mobile features were perfectly eloquent even without words. Blair’s face reflected fear, disbelief and indignation, along with a hefty dose of suspicion, and the underlying defiance was easy to read. 

Sighing in disappointment, even though in all honesty he had been expecting such a response, Jim knew he’d have his work cut out to convince the younger man of his good intentions. Not only that, but he was uncomfortably aware that, if push came to shove, desperation might well force him to complete the bond whether Sandburg wanted it or not. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that, so he was prepared to keep working on the Guide until the dampeners wore off, and Blair was forced to accept his shielding if nothing else. 

“Hey, look, Chief, I’m hungry. How about we order in some food? You could certainly do with feeding up, and I’m thinking it’d make us both feel better.” 

He was quietly pleased to see Blair’s face reflect mild surprise and a tinge of gratitude at his unexpected offer, while his senses, already attuned to the smaller man’s physical responses, heard the soft grumbling of an empty tummy, and the burst of saliva as Blair anticipated being fed. 

Nodding agreeably, he turned to the mirror knowing that Wallace was seated behind it and said, “Can we get some food in here? Soup, sandwiches, coffee. And some water also, OK?” 

Hearing the Director’s affirmative, even though he knew Blair couldn’t, Jim turned back to face the other man with a grin, saying, “You need the bathroom before the food arrives, Chief?” 

When Blair ducked his head, blushing a little at the Sentinel’s accurate reading of his physical condition, Jim continued, “Go ahead, Sandburg. I won’t stand over you if that’s what you’re worried about. But I won’t lock the door, either...” he added quietly, having no intention of leaving the Guide to his own devices, still mindful of the Director’s warning about possible self-harm. 

Still looking at the floor, Blair shuffled obediently over to the bathroom as Jim activated the external door lock, and took care of business after pausing a moment to check if Jim meant what he said about not standing over him. It was, after all, something that Alex and Hettinger had frequently done, cruelly amused at his bitter humiliation. 

Washing up with a little difficulty due to the restraints, Blair exited the room feeling more comfortable, to see Jim already tucking in to what smelled like chicken soup. 

“Here you go, Chief,” he said, pushing a fragrant mug-full towards Blair. 

“Take a load off and try this. It isn’t half bad,” and he took another appreciative mouthful. 

Glancing nervously into Jim’s open face, Blair carefully reached out and took the mug, perching on the edge of the bed as he took a sip, and finding it to be as good as it smelled. Confidence growing slightly as Jim left him alone, he finished off the soup, and flicked a longing glance at the pile of thick sandwiches filling the plate on the floor between them. 

“Go ahead, kiddo. Knock yourself out,” said Jim with a grin. “They’re all pretty good.” 

After a slight pause, Blair leaned forwards and snagged half of a tuna salad sandwich, taking a healthy bite, and savouring the delicious filling and soft bread. It wasn’t that the food he had received thus far at the facility hadn’t been pretty good. He simply had had little appetite for it, and he wondered inconsequentially why it seemed to have returned with a vengeance just now. Deciding that it wasn’t important, he simply enjoyed the food, and almost drooled over the cup of fresh coffee Jim passed over to him. 

Meal finished, Blair carefully gathered up the debris without being told, and placed the tray beside the door for collection before returning to his seat on the bed. 

Knowing that they had a long evening stretching before them, Jim turned his attention back to the observation room and requested TV access, inordinately pleased when yet another panel slid down to reveal an integrated screen on the wall opposite the bed. 

“The Director wasn’t kidding when he said this suite had all mod cons,” he chuckled, taking in Blair’s wide-eyed gaze. “Let’s see what we can get,” he continued, locating the remote. “There should be a Jags game on tonight. You like basketball, Sandburg?” 

And he was even more pleased when Blair nodded shyly in confirmation. 

“Great! And here it is! If they win this, they’re through to the play-offs,” he chortled, selecting the appropriate channel, and dropping into the armchair to watch in comfort, deliberately leaving the bed, and some much-needed space, to Blair.  


\--------------------------  


Some while later, the match long finished, Jim carefully turned off the TV and looked over to where Blair sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. 

While the match was playing, Jim had left the younger man to himself, deliberately appearing to concentrate purely on the game even as he covertly monitored the Guide’s condition, hoping that by keeping the ambience as routine and stress-free as possible, Blair would allow himself to relax a little and get some proper rest. After all, Jim knew for sure that, come morning, the empath was going to be suffering real pain as his meds left his system. Sure enough, the plan had worked better than he had expected, and within a remarkably short time, the barely-recovered Guide had succumbed to his exhaustion, and settled into a deep and healing sleep. 

Studying the peaceful form quietly, Jim hoped that Blair’s surrender to tiredness even in the presence of a new Sentinel was an indication that perhaps the young man’s subconscious accepted the fact that Jim meant him no harm – well, in the physical sense, at least - Jim concluded with a wry grin. 

Quietly making use of the bathroom, Jim returned to the bed and eased himself down beside the smaller body, careful not to touch or disturb him until his own eyes drifted shut, and he sank into the best and most restful sleep that he had experienced since coming online.  


\-----------------------  


**Part 2: Earning Trust:**  


**A Working Bond:**  


Early the following morning, Jim awoke immediately at the sound of a pained moan beside him, and sat up, instantly alert and ready to protect the Guide, who was perched on the edge of the bed again, hands gripping his temples as he rocked back and forth in agony. 

Keeping his voice deliberately low, and trying to contain his worry, knowing that his own roiling emotions would only make things worse, he reached out a gentle hand and began to rub Blair’s back in soothing circles, ignoring for now the automatic flinch from Blair’s taut muscles at the first contact. 

“Hey, Chief. Take it easy. I guess your meds have finally gone, huh? Everybody getting to you?” he whispered, uncaring that he was stating the obvious, and only wanting to show the younger man that he wasn’t alone in his suffering. 

He persisted as Blair’s rocking increased, needing to get the Guide to respond to him, and, more importantly, to at least accept his shielding from the external emotions battering at the young man’s unprotected mind. The building may have been designed to protect Sentinels from unnecessary stimulation, but nothing could help an unshielded Guide from being deluged by the overwhelming input from so many sources. 

As Blair grimaced in burgeoning hurt, his eyed filled with tears that he stubbornly refused to let fall, wanting to strike out at the man beside him who represented a class he had learned both to dread and hate. A class which had spawned an individual whose twisted needs had selfishly ripped away his freedom and ultimately caused this very agony. 

Gritting his teeth to stop himself from screaming as Jim’s concern washed over him, he dimly heard the other man’s soft query. 

“Come on, Chief. Tell me what’s wrong. What can I do to help?” 

As the emotional input crashing into his cringing mind rose to a crescendo, he screamed out, “It’s my fucking _head_ , man! It hurts! What do you fucking _think_ is wrong?” 

But in the very next moment, he threw himself from the bed, dropping to his knees and folding his arms around his head, horrified that not only had he broken his self-imposed vow of silence, but he had actually sworn at the Sentinel. 

_‘Ohgodohgodohgod...’_ he whimpered to himself. _‘He’s going to kill me! Oh god, please no!’_ and memories of Alex’s awful punishments flashed through his brain. 

To say that Jim was taken aback was an understatement, as he saw the younger man’s face drain of colour so fast that he thought Blair was about to pass out. However, far from being concerned at what the Guide had said, the Sentinel within moved into full protective mode. He simply wanted – no, needed - to link immediately with the other man so that the dreadful agony the empath was suffering didn’t push him into an overload. Dropping to his knees in front of the trembling bundle of terrified Guide, he spoke softly but firmly, even as he reached out and gripped the smaller man’s shaking shoulders. 

“Easy, Chief, easy! I’m not going to hurt you, Blair, but you have to let me help you. You have to link with me, Guide! Come on now. Even if we don’t bond, you have to let me shield you,” and he pulled the unresisting body towards him, hugely relieved when Blair allowed himself to be settled in Jim’s arms. 

“S S Sorry!” Blair whimpered, almost sub-vocally. “P P please d d d don’t hurt me--” 

“I’ve no intention of hurting you, Chief,” replied Jim quickly. “In fact, I want to _stop_ you from hurting. Come on, babe. Link with me!” 

And as his already weakened resistance crumbled into nothing, Blair did. 

Feeling the insistent pressure from the older man’s mind pushing against his own, Blair opened up fully and sighed with profound relief when Jim’s strong shields enclosed him completely in a cocoon of calm, shutting out the turbulent emotional waves and instantly soothing Blair’s raging headache. 

Sighing in gratitude, he dropped his head, forehead pressed against that of the Sentinel, careless for the moment that he was in the arms of a person such that he had sworn never to connect with ever again. 

After long moments of exchanging comfort, with support offered and willingly received, Blair finally gathered himself together enough to push carefully away from Jim’s hold, needing to regain some space even though a treacherous little voice from deep within whispered to him that being in the warm embrace had felt so good. 

Disappointed, but understanding the Guide’s reticence, Jim allowed him to pull away, knowing that this wasn’t the time to be pushing for anything more just yet. The mere fact that Sandburg had accepted his shielding helped them both enormously, and Jim was certain that the foundations for a working bond had been laid, even if achieving the real thing might be some way off yet. Blair’s state of mind certainly couldn’t accept the necessary sexual consummation while he was still so wary even if his physical condition had improved enough, and Jim sincerely hoped that he would never get so needy that he would force the younger man against his will. 

“Well, if you’re OK for now, Chief, I’m just going to pay a quick visit to the bathroom, unless you’re desperate?” he added with a small grin. 

Words once again locked within him, Blair shot an apologetic glance at the bigger man and shook his head slightly, unsure as to why he was still so reluctant to speak but unable to concentrate on the conundrum for now. Luckily, Jim didn’t call him on it, but the big man’s frown of disappointment was plain to see as he turned towards the bathroom. 

And indeed Jim was pondering on why the Guide had apparently resumed his silence; coming to the unhappy conclusion that theirs was going to be an uphill battle all the way.  


\------------------------  


A few hours later Jim was beginning to think he’d made a huge mistake. Despite having taken what he had considered to be a big step towards bonding with the skittish Guide when Blair had accepted his mental shielding, all other progress seemed to have stalled in its tracks, and Blair had immediately retreated into his nervous and sullen silence. Although the young man was plainly listening to Jim, and was, as Wallace had said, completely obedient to all the Sentinel’s requests and suggestions, his responses were mainly the automatic and involuntary results of harsh conditioning even though there were several occasions when Sandburg’s expression and demeanour made it very obvious that he would like to question his orders. 

As the frustrating day continued, Jim at least managed to have the restraints removed, but without being able to converse properly with Blair and learn his true state of mind, he was forced to compromise by having a tagged ankle bracelet fitted to the reluctant Guide because there was no way he wanted Blair to ‘do a runner’ as soon as they left the confines of the facility. 

He forced himself to ignore the mutinous expression which flashed briefly across the younger man’s face as he was led away for the fitting, and appeased his guilty conscience by telling himself that it was only temporary until he could persuade the other man to complete their bond. Despite everything, he still very much desired that outcome, as he was at pains to confide in Director Wallace when the man had taken the opportunity to catch up with Jim while Blair was away from the room. 

Settling back into the comfortable chair opposite Wallace in the adjoining viewing room, Jim heaved a deep sigh before beginning to discuss his options even as he listened out for his Guide’s return. 

Wallace himself started the ball rolling as he asked gently, “So, Detective Ellison, do you think that bonding with Blair is still an option? Because I have to say that I still believe you can make a go of it if it’s what you truly desire. 

“I know it must feel as if you’re taking one step forward to every two steps back, but you have already made significant progress, believe me. In fact, far better than I’d hoped under the circumstances.” 

Grinning ruefully, Jim replied, “You’re right there, Director. About the ‘two steps back’ anyway. I thought we were really getting somewhere when we linked and he accepted my shielding, but he shut down again almost immediately. I get the feeling that he’s pretty damned obstinate!” 

“He is at that, Jim, but then again, it’s probably the reason he managed to survive Barnes relatively intact. By all accounts she had burned out and used up several other unfortunate Guides before snatching him. And she did have him for two years.” 

“That’s as may be, Director, but I wish he would read me fully and see that I’m not the same. Sure, I’m no saint, and my colleagues in the PD can tell more than a few tales of my notorious temper, but I’d never hurt him. He’s already precious to me...” and he tailed off sadly. 

“Time, Jim. He needs time,” replied the Director gently. “Remember that he’s a highly intelligent young man, and before his kidnapping he led a very fulfilling and independent life at Rainier. To a free spirit such as Blair, becoming a Guide must seem tantamount to indentured servitude. After all, he avoided detection and screening all his life until Barnes caught up with him. 

“And as to reading you, Jim, I’m sure he already has. I believe that he knows you’re no Alex Barnes, but he’s pushing the boundaries, trying to see what he can get away with – and what he has to do to get you to react and confirm his suspicions that all Sentinels are as bad as one another, at least when it comes to controlling the Guide. From what I’ve learned from his teachers and friends at Rainier, his mother Naomi is a real pro-choice activist when it comes to Guides’ rights, and undoubtedly will have instilled her beliefs into her son. 

“Anyway, taking all that into consideration, how do you feel about him so far? You said he was already precious...?” 

Smiling more naturally now, Jim took a moment to gather his thoughts before saying, “Well, I have to admit that I already feel better than I could ever have believed since coming fully on-line. My senses are sharper and easier to control in his presence, even without words, just through being able to touch and scent him. I mean, I guess I can manage without his voice for now as long as I can hear his heartbeat and listen to him breathing, although I long to be able to have him talk to me. From the few words he said, I can tell he has a lovely speaking voice, perfect for a Guide. 

“And as for sight, well, he’s as attractive as you said, even with the scarring from his injuries. It just makes me want to hold and cherish him, but the gods only know when I’ll be able to do that without him freaking out on me!” 

“Call it wishful thinking if you like, Jim, but I truly believe it’ll come sooner than you think, as long as you have the patience,” replied the other man with a gentle smile. 

“Now, I think Carl is bringing your Guide back...” he began, then mentally laughed at himself as he realised that Jim was already firmly focussed on the other room, having heard Blair’s approach some while before.  


\------------------------------  


When he was led away to be fitted for the ankle bracelet, Blair’s first reaction was one of anger and indignation, and he fumed inwardly at the humiliating prospect of wearing the same equipment as a criminal on probation. The sensible part of him might well argue that it was a reasonable compromise, given that he actually did want to run, and it sure beat the restraints, but he still couldn’t stomach the feeling that he was some sort of commodity which needed to be tracked at all times. 

_Just like a frickin’ parcel!_ he thought morosely, mouth settling into a mutinous pout. 

Even as he meekly accompanied Carl to the workshop, sulkily ignoring the attendant’s attempts at soothing platitudes and genial conversation, he was wracking his brain as to how he was going to manage his escape once in Jim’s hands, because he knew for sure that the big Sentinel wanted him for his permanent Guide and would probably be taking him home sooner rather than later. 

He was certain he could find someone able to remove the tracking device if he could only contact his Mom, or one of her activist friends, but it had to be done before the bond grew any stronger, for both their sakes. Because, try as he might, he couldn’t wish ill on the other man, who he recognised as a fundamentally decent person and just as much a hostage to his genetic makeup as Blair. 

Didn’t mean to say Blair wanted to be owned by him, though, and he was convinced that that was what bonding would ultimately mean to him. Jim may be no Alex, but he looked as if he was accustomed to getting his own way, and Blair certainly couldn’t envisage that including the Guide getting a life of his own. 

Sighing despondently, he allowed Carl to get him seated on a gurney in the workshop, and remained cooperative and quiescent while the other man removed his restraints, and the workshop manager approached with the offending bracelet, face wreathed in what Blair assumed was supposed to be a placating and reassuring smile. 

_Shit-eating grin, more like. Smarmy bastard!_ was Blair’s cynical and ill-tempered response, and he certainly wasn’t proud of himself for the thought. He didn’t like the person he was becoming, even though some might say that he had good reason. The pre-Alex Blair would never have been so cruel or judgemental, and Blair missed that gentle persona. 

During the few minutes it took to fit the anklet and lock it firmly in place, Blair allowed his mind to wander again, and considered what he was feeling so far about his changing circumstances. 

He had to admit that he felt great now, as far as his empathy was concerned. Jim’s shielding was strong and holding firm, and so much better than the drug-controlled method which made him feel dopey and thick-headed. If he was to be truly honest with himself, a Sentinel’s shields were by far the better option from a health point of view once prior bonding had destroyed a Guide’s natural barriers. 

On the other hand, being dependent on a Sentinel left him very vulnerable, as he well knew. Alex had frequently withheld her support simply because she liked to see him suffer and force him to plead with her for mercy and the hated but necessary linking. Could he really trust Jim not to use the same tactics to control him? He wished he could be sure. 

And then there was the possibility of the full sexual bond, which he knew for certain that Jim wanted with him, but which had been so traumatic and twisted with Alex. 

Now Blair was happily bisexual, having been brought up by his broad-minded parent to love the person, not the package, and he recalled with an unwanted frisson of desire his first reaction to the handsome Sentinel. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have believed his luck at such a god showing an interest in him, but this wasn’t normal, and, as far as Blair knew, was absolutely nothing to do with Jim actually wanting him as a person. And why should he? He undoubtedly could have his pick of sexual partners, so why would he choose a small, nerdy Jewish guy? The notion was absurd. 

However, before he could sink any further into gloomy introspection, Carl patted him on the shoulder, saying, “There you go, Blair! All done! I guess you must be really glad to be rid of the restraints, huh?” 

He wasn’t really surprised when Blair simply glowered at him for a moment before resuming his customary meek pose, and sighed in sympathy as he took the smaller man’s arm to help him down from the gurney. 

Of all the Guides he had worked with in his career in the Sentinel and Guide Department, Blair was the first to really get under his skin and fully engage his interest. He had never believed he would ever come across a Guide so brutally and heartlessly damaged by a so-called Sentinel, and he found himself committed to helping the young man by whatever means possible. He didn’t expect Blair to fall over himself in gratitude, given his dreadful past, but he hoped that perhaps in the future, Blair would remember him kindly. 

Smiling softly, and completely unoffended by the younger man’s snit, he simply patted Blair’s shoulder before giving it a supportive squeeze, and led him back to the suite where his new Sentinel waited.  


\---------------------------  


**The loft, later that night:**  


Blair stood just inside the door, waiting for Jim to lock up behind them, and also for permission to move further in. He clutched Jim’s warm leather jacket around him, grateful for the comfort, and recalling his bewilderment when the older man had casually draped it around his shoulders as they left the Sentinel and Guide Department, simply saying, “There you go, Chief. It’s getting chill, and those scrubs aren’t going to keep the cold out.” 

Although his innate curiosity prompted him to study the apartment’s bright, if Spartan, interior, by long practice he restricted his movements to covert and furtive glances, taking care not to irritate the Sentinel and trying not to draw unwanted attention to himself. 

However, Jim was well aware of what he was doing anyway, and said, “It’s OK to go in, Chief. Why don’t you go sit down for a few, and I’ll get some coffee on. Think I’ll light the fire also. It’s a bit chill in here, don’t you think?” and he gave Blair a gentle push towards the loveseat in front of the fireplace before moving to the kitchen to get the Mr Coffee ready. 

Automatically masking his reactions by ducking his head, even though he knew very well that Jim would already have noted the slightly elevated heart rate, Blair shuffled towards the seat, unconsciously moving as if still restrained. With another quick glance in Jim’s direction to make certain he was doing the right thing, he perched on the edge of the seat, ready to move quickly if the other man should change his mind. After all, Alex had had very strong views on what furniture her Guide could and couldn’t use. 

Some minutes later he was relaxing minutely when Jim approached, holding out a cup of fresh and delicious-smelling coffee. 

“Here you go, Chief. That should warm you up a bit, and I’ll get the fire on,” and he bent down to do just that, unaware of the look of astonishment that his new roommate directed at his back. 

Once the fire was lit and blazing nicely, Jim sat down on the sofa opposite and sipped his own coffee, maintaining a thoughtful silence, as he had during their drive back from the Department. 

Seeing that Sandburg had finished his drink, Jim stood to retrieve his empty cup, trying not to react to the young man’s instinctive flinch as he leaned over, and took the cups to the sink to rinse out. 

Returning to his seat, he regarded Blair speculatively for a long moment, automatically noting the raised heart rate, and the faint tang of fear which immediately tainted his Guide’s enticing scent. 

Sighing in resignation, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands in front of him. 

“OK, Chief. This is how it’s going to be. Since we’re going to be living and working together as Sentinel and Guide – and we _are_ going to, Chief, believe me – I want to lay down some ground rules, but I also hope to put your mind at rest as much as I can. 

“First, I want you to know that this is now your home, and although I expect you to help out with the chores, you aren’t my servant, Blair. The sort of life you had with Barnes was an aberration. It isn’t – or shouldn’t be – a matter of ‘me, Master, you, Slave’, OK? 

“Now obviously I’ll need you to work with me at the PD. That was the whole point of meeting up with you anyway, so you can help me continue to do my job. But I don’t see why we can’t do something about getting some sort of life back for you, if you want it,” and he was deeply moved by the gasp of amazement and wide-eyed expression of shock - and hope - which flashed across the smaller man’s face. 

“Thing is, Chief,” he continued, holding Blair’s gaze, “This no-talking thing you’ve got going is getting old. I realise it’s in reaction to your time with Barnes, but I can’t see how I can start to help you if you won’t tell me what you need. Call it emotional blackmail if you like, but you have to talk, Blair, and not just because I want you to. Not just because the Sentinel in me needs it. We both need to communicate properly if we’re going to make this work, Chief. Work as Jim and Blair, not just Sentinel and Guide. 

“Director Wallace said you would need time to learn to trust me, and I appreciate that. I also admit I’m not the most patient of people, Chief, but I promise you I’ll try, providing you’ll do the same for me. I need to trust that you won’t try to run the second my back’s turned, babe. But I also don’t expect miracles. I would like to be able to get that ankle bracelet removed as soon as possible, though, and I’m sure you want that too,” and he noted Blair’s quick blush and downward glance at the hated article. 

“As far as full bonding is concerned, I still want that, very much, and I hope it won’t be too long before I can convince you that I am very attracted to you. But I’m prepared to give you time, as long as you’ll at least work with me and accept my shielding. I also want you to sleep with me, Blair,” and he smiled ruefully at the other man’s instinctive shudder. 

“It’s OK, kiddo. I do only mean sleep, at least for the time being. I just need to hold you, Chief, to satisfy my senses. And I think it’ll be good for you too once you get used to the idea; perhaps make you feel more protected? 

“Anyway, that’s enough lecturing for now. I don’t think I’ve ever talked so much for so long,” he said with a wry grin, slapping his knees before preparing to stand. 

“You ready for a tour of the loft, Chief?” and he gazed quizzically at his Guide, willing the young man to respond positively. 

He was totally overwhelmed by the depths of his relief and gratitude when Blair swallowed hard, chewing nervously at his lower lip for a second before coughing slightly to clear his suddenly dry throat. 

“Um, I’ll try, Sentinel...er...Jim...” he whispered, voice rusty from lack of use, then ducked his head, blushing in embarrassment and not a little trepidation. 

He needn’t have worried, as Jim’s face was immediately transformed by the widest smile of satisfaction he had seen in a long time. 

“That’s great, Chief. Thank you. That’s all I ask!” And he threw his arm around Blair’s shoulders, hugging the smaller man to him before beginning their tour of the loft, and knowing that the first and most important step towards cementing their new relationship had just been made.   


\-----------------------------  


**Following morning, Cascade PD:**  


Around mid-morning, Jim pulled up in his designated spot in the PD parking garage, and shot an inquisitive look at his passenger, who had retreated into his anxious and mute state once again. 

In truth, Jim was hardly surprised that his new Guide was nervous. He would have been under normal circumstances, even without considering their unorthodox meeting. Jim resolved therefore to do his utmost to try and make Blair’s introduction to his Sentinel’s work environment as painless as possible. 

Reaching over to pat the younger man’s knee, he said bracingly, “OK Chief? Don’t worry kiddo. I’ll stay with you all the way. You’ll soon settle in, I’m sure. After all, isn’t that what anthropologists do?” 

Looking up quickly to meet Jim’s eyes, his own stretched wide with worry, Blair only nodded slightly, unable to form any words for the moment, even though the teacher in him would have loved to break into a mini-lecture on how anthropologists observed and studied from the sidelines rather than interact with their subjects on anything other than a superficial level. ‘Going native’ wasn’t an approved course of action by any means since maintaining objectivity was all-important. Nevertheless, his tacit response was enough to satisfy Jim, and the Sentinel offered him a cheerful grin as he opened his door to climb down from the truck. 

Even as he slid down himself, and was pulled into a one-armed hug by the bigger man, Blair reflected on the past few hours as he was gently steered towards the elevators.  


\--------------------  


The previous evening, after showing Blair around the loft, Jim had ordered in a pizza for a quick and easy dinner before allowing his Guide to take a long and much-appreciated shower, its very privacy adding to its delicious luxury. 

Dressed in the oversize tee and clean boxers Jim had provided for him to sleep in, he was led upstairs to the master bedroom, where Jim had nonchalantly stripped down to his boxers before pulling back the bedcovers and urging the smaller man to take the side nearest the wall. Deliberately down-playing Blair’s overt anxiety, he casually wrapped an arm around Blair’s waist and eased his trembling partner to him, the younger man’s back against his chest, and murmured soothingly, “Night, Chief. Sleep well.” 

As expected, it took quite a while until Blair eventually realised that he wasn’t about to be mauled or raped, and Jim waited patiently for the Guide to relax enough to actually sleep, at which point Jim followed him gladly into a deep and healing slumber. 

The following morning, Blair awoke feeling warm and comfortable, snuggled against Jim who was spooned around him, still fast asleep. Amazed to find that he had slept well, safe in the Sentinel’s strong arms, he lay quietly for a while, thinking deeply about his changing circumstances, and coming to the conclusion that perhaps he needed to reassess the situation. He was even more convinced when, after sharing a companionable breakfast of eggs, toast and coffee, Jim had casually announced that he would take Blair clothes shopping on the way to the PD. After all, his own clothes were way too big for the smaller man, and Blair literally had nothing but the scrubs he had worn at the Sentinel and Guide medical centre. 

However, kind offer notwithstanding, bitter experience warned Blair against committing himself fully to this new relationship so soon, his ingrained sense of self-preservation enough to make him still wary, half-expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. 

Nevertheless, responding to Jim’s good-natured attempts at conversation and unassuming generosity, Blair found himself making a real effort to answer Jim’s comments, even if in short or single-word replies. He was encouraged by the fact that Jim appeared to be inordinately pleased with anything he said, so Blair tried even harder as the morning wore on, especially when they pulled up at the mall to pick out some clothes for him. 

Truly grateful for Jim’s concern for his welfare, but not wanting to take advantage, Blair had quietly insisted on buying sale goods and was glad when Jim didn’t force more on him than he felt comfortable with accepting. 

Dressed now in well-fitting jeans, Royal Blue Henley and a warm blue and white plaid flannel overshirt, Blair glanced down at his new sneakers, thinking that he couldn’t remember ever being this well-turned-out even before Alex. Indeed, the cash-strapped grad student had more often than not been forced to patronise thrift shops and yard sales when his ancient garments finally gave out, so these new clothes were a real treat. 

It did bother him that he had to rely on Jim’s generosity for now, though, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be too long before he could earn enough to repay the older man. That is, if Jim had truly meant what he said about Blair getting a life back.  


\---------------------  


As the elevator rose towards the sixth floor where the Major Crimes Unit was situated, Blair was embarrassed to find himself growing breathless and panicky as he tried vainly to control the anxiety attack he felt building inexorably inside him. Although Jim had moved him to the back of the car, placing himself in front of his Guide like a human shield, Blair could still feel the waves of overt curiosity, and even sneering disdain which rolled over him from the other passengers. It disturbed him enough so that Jim growled deep in his throat, glaring at those he found most offensive and looking for all the world like the big cat that was his spirit guide. It was hardly surprising then that, by the time they reached the sixth floor, they had the car to themselves. 

As they exited the car, rather than hustle the smaller man directly to the bullpen, Jim paused for a while, pressing Blair lightly against the corridor’s wall, and studying the Guide with concern. 

“Easy, Chief,” he murmured, genuine care shining from his cornflower blue eyes. “It’s OK. Just breathe, babe. That’s it – nice and deep. It’s OK to be nervous, Blair, but you need to calm down, OK?” and he stroked Blair’s cheek with gentle fingers. 

And after a few moments, Blair found that he could. 

Blushing in humiliation, he ducked his head, but managed to mutter, “Thanks, Jim. I’m sorry. I’ll be all right now.” 

“I know you will, Chief,” responded Jim with a soft smile, squeezing Blair’s shoulder companionably. 

“You’re way tougher than you look, kiddo!” and, taking the smaller man’s arm, he led him towards the doors to the MCU bullpen. 

As the pair pushed through the doors, not surprisingly there was a brief lull in the activity within as soon as their presence was noted. However, before Blair could either freeze in panic or try to make his escape, their path was blocked by a rotund and smiling African American, who held out his hand to Jim, saying, “Hey, Jim! Good to see you, my man! And looking great!” 

Then, turning to Blair, his smile softened as he studied the younger man, taking in the anxious expression, but also noting with great satisfaction the lovely features and compact form. 

“And you must be Jim’s Guide. I’m so very pleased to meet you, young man. You’ve obviously been good for him already,” and he held out a large paw for Blair to shake. 

Swallowing nervously, Blair glanced first at Jim, and, when the Sentinel grinned amicably at him, he took the other man’s hand which seemed to engulf his own, but squeezed gently. 

“Uh...pleased to meet you, sir. Um, Blair Sandburg...” and he ducked his head, furious with himself for blushing like a schoolgirl yet again and thinking, _Jeez, Sandburg, act your age, can’t you?_

However, the other man made nothing of it, simply saying, “And I’m Joel Taggart, son. Once of the Bomb Squad, and now working with this lot of reprobates,” and he punched Jim lightly on the bicep, chuckling richly. 

“A damned good detective, and a good friend also,” added Jim warmly, without a hint of contrivance or awkwardness. 

“But you just have to meet his partner Chief. She’s an exchange officer all the way from New South Wales, Australia! Where is Connor, Joel?” and he gazed around him, half expecting to be ambushed by the Inspector in question. 

“Oh, she’s collecting some files, Jim. She’ll be back soon enough, and she’s going to love you, son!” Joel replied, grinning widely at Blair’s perplexed expression. 

Just then, however, a loud voice barked out, “Ellison! My office! Him too...!” and Blair couldn’t help but jerk in fright at the commanding tone, head whipping round to take in the scowling face of an enormous dark-skinned man who was peering at them from around his office door. 

Quickly throwing a supportive arm around the smaller man’s shoulders just in case the Guide should be tempted to make a run for it, Jim murmured, “It’s OK, Chief. It’s just Captain Banks. He’s not actually as harsh as he sounds--” only to be interrupted as Banks’ voice rang out impatiently again. 

“When you’re quite ready, _Detective!”_

Mouth quirking in a wry grimace, Jim nodded quickly to Joel and steered Blair towards Banks’ office, irritated not for the first time at his Captain’s less than sympathetic approach to personnel management. 

By the time they reached the office, Banks had settled himself behind his desk, and gestured for the pair to enter and take a seat. Carefully steering Blair towards the chair furthest from the door, Jim sat down beside him, close enough to be able to touch and sooth the nervous Guide if necessary. And to block his escape if it came to that, truth be told. 

Gazing from one to the other for a long moment, face creased in glowering concentration, Simon finally fixed his gaze on his subordinate and addressed him directly, virtually ignoring the younger man. His voice was deep and, at least to Blair’s ears, less than friendly or understanding. 

“So, Jim, this is the Guide Director Wallace was so keen for you to contact, eh? Got to say I’m not too happy, _Sentinel Detective_ Ellison! He’s not at all what I expected - looks more like a High School dropout. Or a hippy wannabe! How on earth is he supposed to support you on the job? I’m all ears, Jim. Come on, man. Convince me I should keep you in MCU, because right now I need reassurance!” 

In truth, Simon actually cared deeply about his best detective, both as a friend and as the most successful operative in his team, but he had genuinely serious doubts about this odd pairing, fearing that Jim could actually be worse off than before. Director Wallace had given him a heads up about Blair’s history, and also filled him in on how the contact had gone, but had been unable to convince Simon that any good could come of it. And now he could see the young man for himself, he was even more worried. The kid was small, far too pretty for his own good, and looked so scared Simon expected him to pass out any moment. The Captain hardly dared envisage how he would react in the field, even though he had been told of the ex grad student’s exploits on several gruelling expeditions whilst still at Rainier. A crime scene was way harder to process than some tribal gathering, in Simon’s humble opinion, and an academic could hardly be expected to be of any practical value as a backup. Add to that the trauma of his dreadful treatment at the hands of Alex Barnes, and the whole situation looked like a disaster in the making. 

Even as Jim’s own temper ratcheted up several notches at his Captain’s hostile stance, Blair found himself reacting with unexpected anger and defiance. At first frightened by the big man’s aggression, he had shrunk into his seat, cowed and trembling with trepidation. However, as the rant continued, he found his own anger and indignation, normally so slow to ignite in such a genuinely gentle and peace-loving soul, growing to almost overwhelm him. Raising his head again, mutinous expression clouding his open features and shaking now with red-faced fury rather than fear, he stared directly into the big man’s eyes, his own sparking with challenge. 

“I don’t need this shit!” he snarled, leaning forwards in his chair, clawed hands gripping the arms fiercely even as Jim swung round to stare at him in open amazement, his own response temporarily derailed. 

“It wasn’t my idea to get paired with a cop, and I don’t need your attitude, man. If you don’t want me here, that’s just fine by me, and I’ll leave right now, no problem! But I think you ought to at least consider your man first. I may not be what you envisaged, but I’m all there is, _Captain_ , so if you don’t want Jim tied to a desk from now on, medicated to the eyeballs, live with it!” 

As Jim leaned over to grip his forearm in worry and support, his rage burnt itself out as quickly as it had emerged, and he sank back in his seat once again, drained and pale, and certain that his punishment would be both immediate and severe. What he didn’t expect was for Jim to pull him into his powerful arms, cradling him almost on the Sentinel’s lap until the shakes finally began to subside. 

Ignoring his Captain for the time being, Jim murmured consolingly to his Guide, troubled by the younger man’s outburst and consequent fear-response, but also inwardly enormously pleased and gratified at Blair’s conspicuous concern for Jim’s own welfare. 

“Hey, Chief, it’s OK, kiddo! I’m not mad, and you’re not in trouble. At least not from me,” he added, glaring at his Captain and daring him to contradict. 

“Simon’s just worried about me, and he doesn’t know yet how resourceful you are, babe. Or how resilient. If you’re game, Blair, we’ll just have to show this bunch of doubters, won’t we?” and he prayed that Blair would back him up on his assertion. 

After a few more minutes, during which Jim’s disquietude grew to alarming proportions, the younger man replied, voice soft and anxious. 

“I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to go off like that, I swear. I just hate it when people talk about me as if I’m not there, man. Alex did all the time, like I was just a ‘thing’! And I’m worried for you, man. I I I mean, I know you’ve drawn the short straw with me, man, but I _can_ help you – that is, if you want me to....” 

Then he fell silent, wondering where the hell that last sentiment came from, and saying to himself in disbelief, _Gods! Did I just willingly offer my services to this guy – this Sentinel? I can’t believe I just did that – but I must have meant it, mustn’t I?_

And he was almost convinced of the rightness of his declaration there and then when Jim, face wreathed in smiles, said, “Oh Chief, you’re no short straw, babe! Well, maybe a bit on the short side,” he added with gentle humour. “But I want you, you better believe it!” 

However, their little mutual admiration society meeting was halted abruptly when the more prosaic Simon coughed harshly to gain their attention before growling, “Well, this little demonstration is most moving, gentlemen, but it’s not getting any valid policework accomplished! I suggest you take Sandburg down to Admin to get his paperwork sorted, Jim, and we’ll take it from there. Dismissed!” 

Realising that there was no point in prolonging their meeting, Jim simply nodded in uneasy compliance and helped Blair to his feet, guiding the younger man out into the bullpen and leaving his boss alone to ruminate on the proceedings and form his own conclusions. At least the Captain hadn’t taken Blair up on the Guide’s impulsive offer to leave, and seemed to be resigned to the young man getting his official pass, albeit with very bad grace. 

Jim frowned as they made their way across the room, perturbed by Simon’s pissy attitude and uncharitable comments about Blair and not understanding where the other man was coming from. Sure, he knew that the Captain considered him to be a friend as well as subordinate, a sentiment that Jim fully reciprocated. He had also been very supportive when Jim’s senses had come permanently on-line. Heck, it was Simon who had pushed him into going to see Wallace in the first place, so why the bad reaction to Blair? Just what was it about the young Guide that Simon didn’t like? 

Deciding that they would just have to play it by ear and do the best they could, Jim forced himself to push the disturbing thoughts to the back of his mind for now. Because if Simon persisted in trying to get Jim to choose between him and the PD or Blair, it was going to be Banks and the PD that lost out, no doubt about it. 

Feeling a tug in his mind and realising that Blair was instinctively trying to link with him for comfort and support, he smiled down into the upturned blue gaze and said, “It’s OK, Chief. We’re cool. Whether he likes it or not, Simon’s decided to give us both a chance to make this work, and I for one am looking forward to showing him that he made the right decision. You with me?” and he was more than relieved to see Blair’s answering nod and shy grin of approval.  


\-------------------------------  


While Jim and Blair made their way down to the Administration Office, Simon stared out of his office window, thoughts and emotions volatile. 

He had never considered himself to be a bigot, and definitely never used his size to intimidate anyone but the criminal elements he came into contact with, but he knew very well that he had been guilty of both during the uncomfortable interview with Jim and his new Guide. He was honest enough to know that he had been in the wrong, but it troubled him greatly to admit the reason why. He was no coward, however, and, painful as it was, he determined to think through this quandary, realising that his future relationship with Jim Ellison depended on it. 

He recalled his ambivalent feelings when Jim had first transferred to MCU from a stint in Vice. The man already had a proven track record for arrest and conviction, but had a real attitude problem, much of which was due to his unending struggle to contain his senses and his frequently-voiced desire to work alone and unhindered by a partner of any sort. Likewise there was an unspoken understanding that his childhood was less than satisfactory, and his relationship with his father was poor to non-existent, which no doubt had a detrimental effect also. 

Over time, however, Jim had thawed out some, although he still denied the need for a Guide, and Simon had come to regard him as a real friend; honest and reliable, if abrasive when the mood struck. He also had the Sentinel’s protective instinct in spades, even if he continued to repress the actual senses, so was always ready to help and support anyone who genuinely needed him, hard-ass reputation notwithstanding. 

He might not be a ‘team player’ _per se_ , but he was respected by his colleagues anyway, who knew that he would take a bullet rather than let any of them down in any given situation. 

And now he had found a Guide. He had finally embraced his gifts, and had accepted the necessity for a permanent partner, and it wasn’t Simon. 

And therein lay the problem. 

Huffing in angry self-reproach, Simon accepted that he felt jealous; displaced in Jim’s affection by some punk Guide who looked like a hippy pretty boy. 

Right then, he hated himself for his shallow reactions, telling himself firmly that he was better than that – big enough to admit that he could still be a friend even if he was no Guide. The difficulty would be in truly convincing himself of the concept, but he swore that he would try. He wasn’t a Captain for nothing.  


\----------------------  


Down in the Admin Office, Blair had been forced to spend far longer than either he or Jim expected in filling in the myriad forms needed to make his position official. 

Luckily he had been well-used to such tedious paperwork, having filled in many grant applications over his years at Rainier, so it wasn’t really that much of a chore. Even producing a urine sample for routine drug testing didn’t faze him, especially since Jim didn’t even consider following him into the restroom to check up on him. 

Once he had finished his final form, he handed the stack to the stern-faced middle-aged clerk, whose name tag identified her as Vera, and grinned cheerfully at her, winning himself a genuine smile in response. 

“Your pass will be ready for collection tomorrow morning, Blair,” she positively purred. 

“And you take care of him!” she snapped at Jim, glaring over her spectacles at the big detective, completely unimpressed by his commanding presence. 

Suitably reprimanded, Jim meekly replied, “Sure will, Vera!” before grinning down at his young companion, content that the Guide was now his official partner in the eyes of the PD.  


\----------------------------  


Returning to the MCU bullpen, Jim noted that Blair was slightly more relaxed this time, although he did cast a nervous glance in the direction of Simon’s office. However, when there was no scary bellow greeting them this time, the younger man sighed in relief. He turned his attention back to Jim, who was looking around for a spare chair, or at least one he could borrow for the time being until his new Guide was allocated one of his own. 

Spotting one in the corner, he was about to grab it when there was an outraged yell from the doorway. 

“Touch that and you’re history, Jimbo! That’s my bloody chair, and every bloody drongo here knows it, so take your paws off it!” 

As Blair looked on in astonishment, Jim spun round to face the tall and very attractive brunette who was glowering at him. Frowning in half-amused exasperation, Jim growled in response, “Well, _this_ bloody ‘drongo’ had no idea, Connor! I can’t see your name on it, and it’s nowhere near your desk. And besides, my Guide needs one!” 

Turning her attention to Blair, Megan Connor paused before continuing her rant, face breaking out in a real grin of welcome as she strode over to the pair. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so!” and she reached out to cup Blair’s cheek, completely ignoring Jim’s muttered, “I did, actually....” 

Resting her other hand on Blair’s shoulder, she looked down at the now blushing young man, and cooed, “Oh my, isn’t he _gorgeous_ , Jimbo! How did you get so bloody lucky, mate? I wish I could have one also!” 

“Hands off, Inspector! Go find your own partner and leave mine alone!” Jim replied smartly, well aware that Blair was embarrassed and unhappy at being the centre of attention, especially as a few of the muttered comments from some of the uniforms present were less than complimentary. 

“He’s not some sort of pet, so don’t treat him like one!” he added quietly. 

Upset by her unintentional tactlessness, Megan frowned, then gave Blair a quick hug, murmuring remorsefully, “I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to show you up like that, especially on your first day. Now Jimbo, on the other hand, I’ll show up any time!” and she grinned wickedly at the bigger man. 

“But seriously, I’m very pleased to meet you, love. Jimbo might be a pain in the ass, but he’s a good cop, and you’ll just make him better – and hopefully, easier to get along with,” and she slanted another cheeky glance at the Sentinel. 

Shaking himself out of his nervous funk, Blair dredged up a small smile of his own as he shyly held out his hand in formal greeting, inordinately pleased when the Inspector took it in both of hers. 

“Um, I’m pleased to meet you also, Inspector Connor. Blair Sandburg...” 

“Call me Megan, Sandy. Inspector’s too formal, and I want us to be friends,” replied the irrepressible Aussie. 

“And now I think you’d better get settled before Captain Banks throws a tanty,” she added softly. “You can have the chair, Sandy, no worries! I’m going out with Joel shortly to check out a couple of leads. And there he is! See you both soon!” and she turned away with a cheery half-wave, to meet up with Joel who had just appeared in the bullpen. 

After watching their retreating backs for a moment, Jim turned back to his Guide, pulling the chair up to his desk. He was relieved to see that Blair seemed to have regained his equilibrium somewhat, looking far less tense and worried and not flinching automatically every time Jim made an unexpected movement. 

“Here you go, Chief. Courtesy of the crazy Aussie. Don’t worry; you’ll soon get inured to her weirdness – and her accent! Seriously, though, she’s a good detective, and Joel likes being partnered with her, even if I couldn’t have put up with it. We’d probably have ended up shooting one another. 

“She certainly liked you, though, Chief, and she’s a good person to have on your side, or watching your back, believe me!” 

“Um, well, I liked her too, but I’m not sure whether I want to be called ‘Sandy’...” Blair replied, a bemused expression on his face. 

Thinking that his Guide looked positively adorable, Jim chuckled as he booted up his computer. 

“I’m sorry, Chief, but I don’t think you can do much about it. Once Megan’s decided on a moniker for you, you’re stuck with it. I mean, I never cared for ‘Jimbo’, but there you go!”  


\----------------------------  


**Later that afternoon:**  


Jim looked up from the report he had just read through, intending to congratulate his Guide, who had been working tirelessly alongside him in an attempt to wade through the pile of outstanding paperwork on his desk. His expression changed to one of concern, however, as he noted the drooping figure slumped in the chair beside him, plainly exhausted and running on fumes. Mentally kicking himself for not noticing sooner, he reached over and patted Blair’s knee gently, saying, “Come on, Chief. Time to go. You’ve had a long day, and I think we’ve done enough.” 

Even as the younger man smiled tiredly up at him, Jim signed off the neatly-typed report and placed it in his ‘Out’ tray on top of the sizable pile already there, waiting for Simon’s secretary Rhonda to collect them for the Captain’s perusal. 

As Blair logged off and shut down Jim’s computer, Jim grinned to himself, recalling how pleased he was to find that not only was Blair a fast and accurate typist, but he also knew his way around computers, way better than Jim himself. The fact that his use of any form of IT had been severely curtailed during his two years with Alex Barnes; only being allowed to use a computer under strict supervision when Alex needed his expertise didn’t seem to impede him much. He soon familiarised himself with the software, and before Jim knew it, was filling in report forms and surfing through the PD databases as if he’d been working there for weeks. 

The only problem became obvious very soon, when Jim realised that his Guide was struggling with a headache brought on by Blair’s having to squint myopically at the screen. 

“OK, Chief. So when were you going to ‘fess up to wearing glasses? It’s obviously something we need to get sorted for you, so we’ll take an early lunch now and get you over to the eye doctor, OK? You can get your eyes tested, and maybe get you a pair of ready readers to tide you over until they’re ready.” 

“Um, I’m sorry, Jim. Alex took them off me straight away, as she didn’t want me reading or doing anything without her express approval. I didn’t think you’d want the added expense, especially after buying my clothes...” he tailed off softly, blushing pink in discomfort. 

“I don’t want a suffering Guide, Chief. And you can always pay me back once your stipend starts if you feel so strongly about it, even though I don’t expect it. After all, it’s my fault that you’re here at all,” he finished uncomfortably. 

“Stipend? You mean I’m going to get paid?” Blair squeaked incredulously, the astonishment plain on his face as he homed in on the most important of Jim’s words. 

“I really didn’t think that I would get paid for working with you, man. I mean, I never looked closely at Guide Regulations, since I never intended to be one. And being with Alex didn’t really count,” he added sadly. 

Throwing his arm around Blair’s shoulders, Jim said quietly, “No need to think about her any more Chief. You’re never going to suffer like that again, I promise. And yes, of course you’ll be paid, babe. It won’t be much while you’re still learning the ropes and getting trained to work with me in the field, but once you’re qualified, it’ll be more. 

“And if we can manage to get your dissertation done, you could apply for a post as a consultant also. Maybe even get into forensic anthropology or profiling...” and he had to swallow hard in reaction to seeing the naked hope in Blair’s beautiful eyes as the smaller man fought against the tears that were threatening to spill. 

“Oh man! Oh gods! Do you mean it, Jim? Could I? Oh man!” and Jim just had to smile down into the earnest gaze, cupping Blair’s cheek with his free hand. 

“We can certainly try, Chief. But first things first. Let’s go to lunch and then get you to the eye doctor.”   


\---------------------------  


After grabbing a snack of coffee and sandwiches, Blair’s eye test was soon completed, and a nice pair of wire frames picked out. Having been advised by the optician that his completed spectacles would be ready for collection in about a week’s time, Jim bought him a pair of cheap reading glasses as a temporary measure. 

“I know they’re hardly prescription, Chief, but they’re better than nothing. I don’t want you to get headaches from doing my typing. Well, not from staring at the computer screen anyhow,” he chuckled, pleased when Blair grinned in response. “On the other hand, I gather that some folks think that my writing’s not up to much. Can’t think why?” he continued, even more pleased when the younger man snickered out loud. 

On their return to the office, Jim introduced Blair to two more of his colleagues who had just arrived. Detective Brian Rafe was a slender and attractive young man, a few years older than Blair. He was smartly dressed and somewhat reserved in character, the diametric opposite of his partner, Detective Henri ‘H’ Brown. 

‘H’ was a large dark-skinned man, dressed colourfully in a very loud Hawaiian shirt and odd-looking leather cap. A cheerful extrovert, he held out his hand immediately to Blair, saying, “Good to meet you, babe. When Jim said he was going to check out a Guide named Blair, had to say I thought he meant a woman. Then again, with that hair – tell you what! Gonna call you Hairboy, babe!” and he chortled at his own humour, not in the least concerned at Jim’s forbidding frown. 

“Take no notice of him.” Rafe spoke out in fond resignation, nudging his larger colleague none-too-gently in the ribs. “He has delusions about being some sort of comedian! Pleased to meet you, Blair,” and he also extended his hand for Blair to shake. 

Greetings over, they all made their way back to their desks, where Jim and Blair dove straight back into the paperwork pile, and worked steadily through the rest of the afternoon.  


\-----------------------  


**The loft, that evening:**  


As Jim let them in to #307, 852 Prospect, he was only too aware that Blair was almost swaying on his feet with exhaustion. The younger man had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had climbed into the truck to drive home, and Jim was concerned to note the dark smudges beneath the closed eyes. He was even more concerned when a quick scan of the Guide’s physiological responses warned him of the run down and weakened condition of Blair’s still healing body, and he chastised himself for not noticing earlier. 

Gently rousing his Guide once he had pulled into his designated parking slot, he had already decided that they could order in again, because there was no way either of them were up to preparing an evening meal. Blair was dead on his feet, and Jim needed to concentrate on taking care of him. 

On entering the apartment, Blair had sleepily made his way over to the nearest sofa, only to pull up short when Jim said conversationally, “Well, I guess we should think about getting something for dinner.” 

Despite his desperate tiredness, Blair bit his lower lip in resigned disappointment as he turned aside from the beckoning comfort of the sofa, and made his way unsteadily towards the kitchen, fully intending to sort out the fixings for supper, as he had become accustomed to do during his captivity with Alex. 

Realising immediately what his new Guide must be thinking, Jim quickly closed the space between them, and placed his hands on Blair’s shoulders, arresting his movement. Keeping his voice gentle and unthreatening he said, “Hey, Chief, where do you think you’re going? I don’t expect you to start making dinner, kiddo. That’s not how we work, OK? Sure, if we’re not too tired, we can take turns in doing the evening meal, but when we’re both exhausted, heck, we can order in! That’s what the takeout menus in the drawer are for! 

“Now, babe, it’s OK,” he continued softly as Blair’s lip began to tremble, and his shoulders shook in barely-suppressed emotion. 

“Don’t get upset, OK? It’s a fear response, I know. I do understand, Chief. You’ve been conditioned in the harshest way to behave in particular ways under certain circumstances. But you have to learn that I’m not like that, OK? Re-learning your right to independence won’t be easy, I know, but we’ll work on it together, kiddo. Just as long as you realise that I’m no saint, OK? So if I don’t always react positively the way I should, I hope you won’t take it to heart. 

“Now, I think you ought to sit down before you fall down, babe, and I’ll order something in. Thai OK?” 

Unable to vocalise his response, being totally overwhelmed with both his exhaustion and his astonishment at his Sentinel’s understanding, Blair simply nodded, eyes full with emotion and unshed tears. 

Reacting to Blair’s shaky state with more patience than he would possibly have credited himself, Jim squeezed the smaller man’s shoulders and pushed him back towards the sofa. 

“There you go then, Chief. I’ll just get a selection, and you can choose what you can manage,” and he pulled out the appropriate menu and dialled up the restaurant’s number.   


\---------------------  


That night, Blair made no complaint or offered any resistance when it came to going to bed. Exhausted by the full day they had put in at the PD as well as by the many eye-opening scenarios he had faced over the past few hours, he was in no condition to do anything else but follow Jim’s gentle directions. 

Climbing into bed and being cuddled up to the Sentinel’s chest just like the previous night, he found himself way more relaxed than he would ever have believed as he accepted the bigger man’s comfort. It was only as he drifted gradually into slumber that he realised that he hadn’t thought once about making his escape from Jim, even though he had been sorely tempted to run when frightened by Simon Banks. But not away from Jim, though, and why was that? 

_Well, what do you know?_ he thought tiredly as he snuggled deeper into the soft bed. _Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. Maybe there is a way to make this work..._ and his last conscious thoughts were that Jim’s shielding felt so good, and he hadn’t made any attempt to hurt Blair yet....  


\---------------------  


Despite both men’s good intentions, the following days were something of a rollercoaster ride as they explored their relationship and danced around both their new living arrangements and the fledgling bond between them. 

Most of the time Blair was genuinely trying to meet with Jim’s requirements on the job, and to conform to the Sentinel’s chosen lifestyle at home because his nature demanded that he put one hundred per cent effort into whatever he chose to tackle. However, he found himself quite unable to prevent himself from occasionally pushing the Sentinel’s buttons and trying to elicit a negative or angry reaction at the most inopportune moments. He was smart enough to realise why he was doing it. As Director Wallace had explained to Jim at the Sentinel and Guide Centre, it was a means by which the damaged part of Blair could prove to himself that all Sentinels were cast in the same mould when it came to abusing Guides. 

But his sane and sensible side railed against his own behaviour, knowing that Jim didn’t deserve his adolescent tantrums and actually feeling ashamed of himself when his actions provoked an angry response even as he cowered away from Jim’s barely-contained wrath; both elated and terrified at his own ability to get under the Sentinel’s skin. 

For the most part, Jim did manage to control his worst reactions on these occasions, remembering Wallace’s words and forcing himself through sheer willpower not to respond as extremely as Blair plainly expected him to. However, as he had admitted to Blair on more than one occasion in the aftermath of such episodes, he was only human, and no saint, so sometimes the results of their contretemps proved to be more traumatic to them both than they expected. 

It didn’t help that Blair was also feeling a little ‘stir crazy’, since he was physically unable to leave Jim’s side to move away any distance without the tracker on his ankle being activated. Because this prevented them from practicing any degree of separation, voluntary or otherwise, he had yet to learn just how far away Jim’s protective shielding would reach, or how long Blair could manage without it. 

Under normal circumstances, should a Sentinel and Guide be separated for any length of time, they would automatically obtain the appropriate suppressing and dampening medication needed to tide them over, but this could not be obtained ‘over the counter’ and required a carefully controlled prescription. Certainly, there were black market sources, but anyone who went along that route was taking a serious risk, since the side effects of poor quality drugs were horrendous, and potentially lethal. 

It wasn’t so bad during the day, because Blair was now interacting with growing confidence at least with Jim’s friends and colleagues in the MCU bullpen, but once back at the loft, both men often felt at a loss, since they had yet to consummate their bond and take the final step towards a life-long commitment. Although Blair found himself occasionally eyeing up his buff partner with speculation, he was still too scared to take the plunge, knowing that it would be impossible to rectify this time should he have chosen wrongly. 

Jim on the other hand was finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off Blair, especially when he caught the fleeting whiff of pheromones flavouring the young man’s already enticing scent. And because he was growing frustrated, he was also getting more antsy at stepping around Blair as if he was walking on eggshells in his own home. 

Things came to a head a couple of weeks into their partnership after working their first official crime scene as Sentinel and Guide.  


\--------------------------  


**Warehouse District, Cascade Docks:**  


Jim and Blair arrived at a seedy and run-down warehouse having been called out by H and Rafe to check out a possible murder scene, with Simon Banks’ reluctant blessing. The pair had been working together now for nearly three weeks, and Blair had proved to be more than competent dealing with PD paperwork and the IT systems, much to Simon’s amazement and grudging approval. The hippy-wannabe Guide had also managed to win over most of the MCU detectives, as well as the clerical and admin staff such that the whole atmosphere in the bullpen seemed to have lightened considerably. It was also obvious that the young Guide was being called on more and more to deal with the emotional victims of violent crime, being able to empathise and comfort far better than the majority of police personnel. 

He was still quiet and shy in unfamiliar situations, and had a tendency to cringe or flinch nervously when approached unexpectedly, but given the chance to relax, the young man was extremely personable and gentle as befitted a high-grade empath. 

Nevertheless, Banks was aware that all was still not well in Sandburg and Ellison’s world, and as Captain, and Jim’s friend, he was uncomfortable with his observations and conclusions. 

Because of his general uneasiness, he had postponed Jim’s return to the field for a week or so longer than he had originally intended, but he knew that the time had come to send the new pair out into the harsh world of crime scene investigation whether he liked it or not. 

He just had to pray that he hadn’t made a spectacular error in judgement allowing Jim and his quirky little Guide back into the MCU.   


\-----------------------  


As Jim turned off the truck’s ignition, he cast a wary glance over at his silent partner, who was staring pointedly out of the side window, face pale and anxious, and hand rubbing up and down a jean-clad thigh in an unconscious nervous movement. 

Jim knew very well that it wasn’t just the upcoming crime scene that was bothering Blair, and was at a loss as to how to improve matters between them. However, the professional within him needed to give the investigation top priority right now, and he was unsurprisingly impatient to get on with the job. He felt like he had been out of the field for way too long, and needed to get back into harness as soon as possible. 

“OK, Chief? Time to get busy,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened his door and climbed down from the truck. 

“You going to sit there all day, Junior, or are you intending to give me a hand here?” 

As Blair jerked a little in response, Jim felt a pang of guilt, but shoved it aside for now, although he was determined to try and get some of their problems ironed out as soon as possible, because they couldn’t carry on as they were. Something had to give, and he didn’t want it to be their partnership. 

Blair quickly climbed down from the truck and moved to Jim’s side, not actually looking at the older man, but taking up the requisite position just behind and to Jim’s left where he would be able to touch and ground his Sentinel without hampering the detective’s dominant side. 

Deciding that making any sort of fuss or drawing attention to Blair’s unease would only make matters worse, Jim maintained his calm and controlled demeanour as he approached the open warehouse door. 

“Hey, H, Rafe. What’ve you got for us?” he called out to his two colleagues who were waiting just outside. 

“Hey Jim, Blair. Looks like a straight-forward execution-style killing, at least where two of the vics are concerned, but there’s another body in back which looks out of place. See what you can make of it, huh?” replied H, for once minus his habitual grin. 

“Got to tell you though, it’s pretty messy in there....!” 

“OK, H. We’ll take it from here then,” replied Jim, face already closed off and expressionless as he concentrated his attention on the crime scene. 

“We’ll go over it as quickly as possible so you can get forensics in, OK?” then to Blair, “You good to go, Chief?” and he nodded approvingly at Blair’s quiet affirmative before pulling on the pair of latex gloves the nearest tech handed to him. 

As the pair entered the building, carefully skirting the crime scene so as not to disturb the area any more than necessary, Jim was first aware of the strong reek of fresh blood, and the myriad older and staler scents he would expect to associate with the interior of an old warehouse. Sneezing as he inhaled a little too heavily, he was grateful for Blair’s gentle touch on his bicep and whispered command to dial down his sense of smell, then obeyed his Guide’s instructions to dial back up slowly and to isolate and discard anything peripheral to the actual incident. 

“Thanks, Chief,” he murmured as he got himself back under control. “Sure are a few nasty smells in here. I reckon this place must have been used for livestock at some point. Or something worse...” he added almost to himself, gritting his teeth in disgust at what he was pretty sure he was scenting. 

As Blair glanced quizzically at him, he explained, “I’ll need to check more thoroughly after we’ve covered the actual crime scene, Chief, but I’m picking up the smell of unwashed bodies, human waste and old fear amongst other things. I think this place may have been used as a holding area for either illegals or other vics, maybe by white slavers.” 

“Oh man,” breathed Blair, sympathy fully engaged. “That’s awful! Did the vics have anything to do with it, do you think?” 

“Don’t know yet, Chief. Let’s check ’em out,” and Jim moved over to the first of the bodies, aware of Blair’s audible gulp and tightly gripping hand as he fought to control his distress. 

Squatting beside the corpse, Jim held his hand just above the body and murmured, “Still slightly warm, so probably killed only a few hours’ ago, but Dan’ll confirm that,” referring to Cascade PD’s resident ME, Dan Wolf. 

“Cause of death looks like a double tap to the back of the skull while vic was kneeling, but he doesn’t look like an illegal. Classic execution, by the looks of it, carried out with a 9mm semi-automatic. Again, Dan can confirm that. 

“Now this one,” he continued, standing and moving to crouch by the second body, “This one looks like he tried to move. The shots aren’t as clean, almost as if he was trying to get up, which under the circumstances, he probably was, especially if he’d already witnessed the first killing.” 

“Poor guy,” murmured Blair, face and eyes reflecting his deep sorrow for wasted lives. “Even criminals don’t deserve to die like that!” 

Reaching back to squeeze Blair’s hand supportively, Jim replied, “You’re right, Junior. But let’s take a look at the third body. H said it’s different...” and he stood to move back deeper into the gloomy building. 

Although he’d been holding it together remarkably well at the scene so far, at the sight of the third corpse, Blair gasped in horror, and had to fight against his need to throw up on the spot. 

“Oh man! Oh man! That’s...that’s _awful!”_ he choked out, swallowing desperately as his gorge rose in reaction. 

“Easy Blair! Easy!” murmured Jim, quickly pulling his Guide into his arms and tucking the curly head against his shoulder for a moment while he rubbed the smaller man’s back in comforting circles even as he surveyed the scene for himself. 

Gazing at the mangled body sprawled on the ground; he had to admit that even he felt pretty squeamish despite his considerable experience with death in its many guises. 

The body had been beaten so severely that the facial features were virtually obliterated, and the rest of the corpse was bruised and bloodied far beyond recognition at first glance. It was only Sentinel sight that automatically registered that the general physicality suggested a young, adolescent male, and the state of undress and smell of semen also suggested sexual assault. Homing in on the victim’s right fist, Jim was able to see a scrap of cloth protruding from the stiffening fingers, and he put Blair gently aside as he knelt down beside the corpse. 

“Hey!” he called, already focussed on the possible clue. “I need a pair of tweezers and a baggie!” 

As a forensic tech approached with the required objects, Jim ripped open the sterile cover from a fresh set of gloves to replace the ones he was wearing in order to try and prevent cross contamination between the bodies. Carefully prising open the clutching hand, he extracted the scrap of cloth, pleased to note that there was a shirt button attached, as if the victim had grasped at one of his attacker’s clothing in self defence – or _in extremis_. Dropping the cloth into the baggie, he sealed it, but before handing it back to the tech to label and record in order to preserve the chain of evidence, he quickly returned to check out the other two bodies, and was gratified to see that the second one had a torn shirt with a missing button. Addressing the tech, he said, “Well, I guess that shows that there was some interaction at least between two of these guys, and judging by the amount of blood spatter on these two’s clothing, I know what my theory would be. There’s far too much of it to be just theirs, execution or not, so I figure the rest is probably from the young man in back. Better not to second-guess the results from the evidence though, huh?” he added with a wry grin. 

“Hopefully Dan will be able to confirm probable cause and time of death quickly, and you guys can go ahead and process the scene now, OK? Just hope it won’t take too long to identify them....” 

Nodding in agreement, the tech, whose badge identified him as Dave Stirling, replied cheerfully, “Sure thing, Sentinel Ellison. We’ll get right on it so you can see if your scenario checks out. I’d put money on your theory, though,” he continued breezily. “It’s always easier for us if a Sentinel and Guide team checks a scene out first!” and he retreated to the warehouse entrance to call in his colleagues as Jim led Blair out into the fresher air of the dockside. 

Throwing a supportive arm around Blair’s shoulders, Jim murmured, “See, Chief? I know that was a pretty bad first scene for you to deal with, but I couldn’t have done all that without your backup, and the forensics guys at least are grateful for our input.” 

However, Blair refused to look at him, lost in his own troubled thoughts and emotions, so with a grimace of resignation and no little impatience, Jim turned his attention back to H and Rafe and filled them in on his finds – and thoughts so far.  


\----------------------------  


**Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit:**  


A short while later saw Jim and a still silent Blair return to the PD to report back to Simon, Blair having been forced to make a quick side trip to the bathroom where he finally lost his breakfast. H and Rafe followed them into the Captain’s office, and listened attentively to what Jim had to say before adding their own ideas and impressions. 

With the possibility of illegals being involved, on the evidence of Jim’s senses, Banks knew that the case would be bumped up to their department from Homicide whether that department’s Captain liked it or not. He therefore immediately set up his team for the investigation, initially comprised of the four men present but possibly extending to incorporate others from MCU if necessary. 

“OK, then. H and Rafe, I want you to canvas the area – check out the nearby warehouses still in use and see if anyone has anything of interest to report. I’m not too hopeful that there’ll be any upstanding citizens down there who could care less if they saw any activity concerning illegals or any other ‘commodity’, but you never know. 

“Jim. I want you and your Guide to find out as much as possible about the owners of that warehouse. See if a search pulls up anything of interest while we’re waiting for Dan to perform the autopsies. I know it’ll be a while before all the lab results are back, but I’m going with your theory for now. And once we can ID these guys, perhaps we can trace them back to their bosses, even though I suspect we may never be able to identify the third vic. 

“OK, get to work! I want results, guys. I hate this sort of case involving human trafficking whether voluntary or not.” 

As H and Rafe got up to leave, Simon indicated that Jim and Blair stay for a moment longer. 

Once the door had closed behind the other detectives, each of whom had cast a concerned glance at Blair who still gazed fixedly at the floor, apparently lost in introspection, Simon spoke up again. Staring at the young man’s downturned head for a long moment, frowning in irritation and concern, Simon returned his gaze to Jim saying, “OK, Ellison. I want a straight answer from you as regards how your partnership is developing. 

“I know you’re working well together in the bullpen, and today’s little trip suggests that you have the makings of an excellent Sentinel and Guide team. But I don’t see any evidence of real commitment from either of you. Have you bonded yet, and if not, why not? Because I have to say that this department needs a fully bonded and functioning pair. I don’t have time to tiptoe around your precious feelings, especially his,” and he nodded at Blair, who had finally registered the Captain’s tone and the nature of his question. Pulling himself out of his funk, he raised his head to gaze from Simon to Jim and back again, wide-eyed with anxiety and looking like a deer in the headlights again. 

Although his immediate reaction was to gather up his Guide and tell Simon what he could do with his demand, Jim knew that the Captain had a right to know how his department could be affected by his men’s continuing delaying tactics, particularly on Blair’s part, and decided that now was as good a time as any to progress their case whether his Guide approved or not. 

Locking his gaze on Blair, and willing the young man to understand where he was coming from, Jim spoke up, but directed his words to Simon. 

“You’re right Simon. We haven’t bonded yet, although I like to think that we’ve made a fair bit of progress towards it. You have to understand just how deeply Blair’s trust issues go as regards Sentinels. _Any_ Sentinels...” and he paused for effect as Blair swallowed heavily, unable to tear his eyes from Jim’s and pale face stricken with guilt and fear at the Sentinel’s words. 

“I hope, well, _trust_ that we can make a go of our partnership, and you’ve already admitted that, as a working pair, we do OK in the bullpen. Also, as you say, today proves that with Blair to help me, I can function pretty well in the field. 

“Yeah, OK, I know I’d be a hell of a lot better if we bonded fully, but surely what we have already is good enough for now?” and he turned his gaze on Simon, praying that the Captain wasn’t about to terminate their partnership in MCU in favour of replacing them with an established pair. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Simon sighed before admitting with marked reluctance, “OK, Jim. I do agree that you have a functional working relationship, but it’s not just the department I’m thinking of when I ask about your bond. Anyone can see that you care a lot for Guide Sandburg – Blair – but I don’t see much of that reciprocated, Barnes or no Barnes,” and here he swung round to glare at Blair before continuing. “So why is that, Sandburg? Why _do_ you persist in throwing Jim’s care and protection back in his face? How come you’re all sweetness and light with the other members of my department, but sulk and pout when Jim asks anything of you? To me, you’re behaving like an ungrateful brat,” and he stepped towards the trembling young man, unconsciously intimidating the smaller Guide with his height and bulk. 

Gasping in instinctive terror at the scowling captain, as soon as the big man moved towards him, Blair automatically brought his arms up to protect himself as he tried to throw himself clear of his seat in an attempt to hide under the heavy conference table behind him. He would have made it if Jim hadn’t moved even more quickly and wrapped a powerful arm around his waist, pulling him into the Sentinel’s side and holding him firmly but carefully in place, and shushing the smaller man as if he were a frightened child. 

Shocked and baffled at the Guide’s dramatic reaction to his words, Simon’s face took on a perplexed expression as he muttered in exasperation, “Shit, Sandburg! Where the hell did that come from? I wouldn’t hit you, kid, any more than Jim would! 

“Look, I’m sorry I scared you, but I need to know that you will bond with Jim, preferably sooner rather than later. Then we can get rid of that ankle bracelet of yours. 

“But I have no intention of doing that if I think you’re still a flight risk, young man, so perhaps you’d better start thinking hard about what I’ve said,” and he fixed the still trembling Blair with his most penetrating glare. 

Blushing scarlet in humiliation at both his own panicked reaction to Banks and at becoming the centre of the two big men’s attention, Blair ducked his head again, biting his lip as he fought against his tears of frustration and anger, emotions almost at boiling point. 

Gods! What _was_ it about cops and Sentinels? Why was it _his_ fault that he and Jim hadn’t bonded? And he flashed back to this morning, when, waking as usual in Jim’s arms, he had found not for the first time that he was half-hard from the older man’s proximity and the warmth and comfort he had enjoyed during the night. Flushing a little with embarrassment and no little anxiety, he had, again as usual, made his escape under the pretext of needing the bathroom, but he knew very well he wasn’t fooling the Sentinel. 

And Jim never called him on it, or tried to seduce him at all, and why was that? 

And, more to the point, how would he respond if Jim did? 

Dropping his gaze, he forced himself to relax in Jim’s grasp, and muttered, “I’m sorry Captain. I didn’t mean to offend you...” then tailed off, not knowing what else he could say without completely losing it and in all probability, make a touchy situation worse. 

Realising that there was nothing to be gained by continuing the confrontation, Simon nodded to Jim as he replied, “OK Jim. Go on and get started on the research. And let me know how things progress, OK?” and Jim knew very well he didn’t just mean with the investigation. 

As Simon patted his friend’s shoulder in sympathy, Jim turned Blair around and steered him out of the office and back to their desk, where the younger man immediately sat down at Jim’s computer and began his search without another word or glance at the Sentinel.  


\-------------------------  


**The Loft, later that night:**  


Two exhausted men staggered their way into the loft, having put in several hours of strenuous research and investigation at the PD. Following their ‘interview’ with Simon, Blair had quickly traced the owners of the warehouse to a Seattle company, although nothing much was known about them. On the surface, it was an above-board rental agency that let out many such warehouses in different locations up and down the West coast. Although the partner Jim spoke to was somewhat reticent about divulging information about the company’s lessees, he did make it clear that he would do so if necessary. 

He also confirmed that they had had no problems to date with those particular clients, who also rented several similar properties in other locations, and who always paid up promptly and left the warehouses empty and in good condition. 

A quick brain-storming session between the team members reluctantly concluded that the racket could be much more wide-spread than previously thought, even stretching over several states, so that it was more than likely that the FBI would want to get involved. 

With the results of the autopsies and lab work still outstanding, Simon dismissed his detectives with the admonition to get some quality rest and be ready to get straight down to business first thing in the morning.  


\------------------------  


On the drive back to the loft, Blair’s emotions were all over the map. He felt fretful and angry at Jim for apparently ‘setting him up’ to take a scolding from Captain Banks, but admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he probably deserved it. However, that insight notwithstanding, he was having a hard enough time coming to terms with his feelings for the Sentinel without pressure from Simon added to the mix. 

He realised that he could no longer deny his attraction to Jim the man, but knew himself to be still mortally afraid of letting himself go, to be ‘owned’ and ‘possessed’; completely at another Sentinel’s mercy, just as he had been with Alex. 

Sure, Jim hadn’t raised a hand to him, even when plainly irritated by Blair’s deliberately obnoxious behaviour, but Blair was certain that the moment would arrive eventually, and he had no intention of being any more dependent on Jim than he already was when that time came. 

On the other hand, his inner self constantly nagged at his conscience, demanding that he recognise that he _needed_ Jim whether he liked it or not, and that he also recognise his duty as a Guide to an Alpha Sentinel. Jim may not be perfect, but Blair knew him to be a good man, and Blair admired him for that. He would desperately love to be convinced that they could be good together, but fear and suspicion were as yet too deeply rooted in his psyche. 

In consequence, he had remained pretty much closed-mouthed all day, with the exception of their visit to the crime scene, running through his contradictory emotions and thoughts like a hamster on a wheel, with as little useful end result. 

The empath in Blair knew that Jim was justifiably irritated by his increasingly erratic demeanour, but the hurt core within the Guide was genuinely perplexed by the increasingly fraught situation; terrified to expose himself to any approach which had the potential to damage him further, and sure that he couldn’t cope with the Sentinel’s emotions as well as his own.  


\------------------  


As Jim locked the door behind them, Blair determinedly walked over to the refrigerator, frustration and weariness clouding his thoughts, and emotional breakdown too near the surface for him to deal with right now. Single-mindedly opening the appliance, he withdrew a beer and popped the top, intending to try and anaesthetise his distress with alcohol, although he had never even contemplated such an action before. 

Staring at his Guide, jaw muscles working overtime in aggravation, Jim concentrated on maintaining his rapidly fraying patience even though he realised it was a losing battle. Blair was still quiet as he had been nearly all day, apparently sulking and determinedly unapproachable. His blatant attempt at defiance as he stalked over to the refrigerator might under different circumstances have been a source of mild amusement, but right now Jim had just about had enough. 

Considering that Blair had never had the nerve to act in such a way before, even though he had begun to relax somewhat around the loft, Jim found himself to be both worried and irritated. He knew very well that the Guide was deliberately trying to wind him up even as he could scent the smaller man’s real distress. 

But this time, despite his genuine sympathy for the wounded Guide, he was forced to recognise his own very real needs, and this time, they were not to be denied. 

Stalking over to his Guide, for once intentionally using his physique as an intimidating factor, he demanded furiously, “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sandburg? Since when did you take leave of your senses, eh? You’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast, and you threw that up after the warehouse scene! What is beer supposed to do for you, Chief? Huh?” and he reached for the half empty bottle, determined to stop his Guide’s self-destructive stupidity in its tracks. 

Eyes narrowing in fury as he read Jim’s intentions, Blair snapped, and hurled the article at the wall with all the power of his pent-up frustration, to see it shatter into a thousand shards, spraying the surrounding area with beer and glass splinters. 

Immediately horrified at what he had done, Blair stood transfixed in terror before spinning back to face Jim, hands raised in a futile warding gesture and almost wetting himself in fear and anticipation of the punishment to come. 

“Oh man! Oh, please, Jim, don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I’ll clean it up, I promise, just please, please don’t hurt me...!” 

But this time Jim wasn’t to be placated so easily. Moving predatorily closer to hover over his quaking prey he almost growled, “Not good enough Guide! I’ve had just about all I’m going to take from you and your juvenile behaviour! We’re going to finish this now, one way or the other, whether you like it or not!” and he reached out to grasp the smaller man’s upper arms in a grip of steel. 

Too frightened even to scream, Blair’s breaths became shorter and more panicky as he tried vainly to struggle against the vice-like hold, feeling himself lifted with ease and deposited on the sofa, the weight of the furious Sentinel pinning him down so that he was helpless to defend himself. 

Straddling the still squirming body and gripping tightly with his thighs, Jim pinned Blair’s upper arms to his sides with his forearms as he grasped the curly head between his hands, bringing his face close to the terrified Guide’s. 

“I said enough, Guide, and I _meant_ it! Don’t fight me anymore because it won’t do any good. Either you accept me now, or you’re out of here, but not free to go! Oh no, Sandburg. If you turn me down you’ll be back in that facility for however long they decide to hold you. You want a half-life of medication and psych evals, go ahead. But if you want to have a life with me – a life fulfilled – stop fighting me!” and he lowered his face to claim Blair’s lush lips in a commanding and possessive kiss. 

Mind almost gibbering with the burden of his fear, at first Blair could do nothing but accept Jim’s passionate devouring of his mouth, overwhelmed by the sheer physicality of the Sentinel’s presence. Soon however, he found he could no longer remain passive, and tentatively responded, torn between his suppressed desire for Jim the man, but still so afraid of the consequences of giving himself up to the Sentinel. 

Apparently his timid response was all that Jim required to press on with his amorous attack, and suddenly Blair felt a bolt of extreme agony rip through his mind as Jim deliberately withdrew his shielding, only to slip into the other man’s unguarded consciousness. Completely exposed to outside emotions, for a split second the agony increased to intolerable levels in the empath’s mind, then disappeared altogether as Blair felt Jim ease into his head. Yet even now the primal Sentinel somehow managed to maintain a modicum of control until he was certain of Blair’s willing capitulation and acceptance of the sexual act which would cement a mutual and permanent bond. 

Shuddering now from the release of his own pent-up longing, Blair was helpless in Jim’s grasp, and put up no resistance as he was scooped up in powerful arms and carried upstairs to the bedroom, even though under different circumstances he would undoubtedly have felt emasculated by the action and complained accordingly. 

Once placed carefully on the bed, Jim proceeded to strip Blair of his clothing, still managing to restrain his growing need to possess the young man there and then only by an enormous effort of will, still human enough to know not to hurt or frighten his mate any further. 

As Blair lay passive but wide–eyed with bewilderment, Jim indulged himself in an almost leisurely exploration of the naked and slender form, something he had been denied up until now due to his body-shy Guide covering himself at all times, his normal reserve undoubtedly exacerbated by the presence of his many healing scars, so obvious to Sentinel sight, but so unimportant to Jim in terms of the young man’s natural beauty and sexual appeal. 

By now Blair was almost whimpering with need as Jim took his time sniffing, licking, listening and tasting, and thoroughly imprinting his Guide on his senses, more than content with his choice. 

Rolled carefully onto his side, Blair willingly accepted Jim’s gentle preparation, reacting now purely on instinct as the primal Guide within demanded union with the primal Sentinel in Jim. As Jim entered him fully, Blair discounted the fleeting discomfort in the heady euphoria of being claimed by the man who had won his heart despite his protestations. 

Moving together increasingly rapidly, as Jim climaxed inside him, Blair felt strong teeth clamp onto his tender flesh where neck met shoulder, bringing him also to climax, crying out in delight as the bond flashed through them, sealing them forever as one.  


\------------------------  


In the lazy aftermath of their lovemaking, Blair lay sprawled on top of Jim, dozing comfortably in the bigger man’s arms, head tucked into Jim’s shoulder. Finally surfacing, he pushed back a little to gaze in wonder at the man lying beneath him. His very own Sentinel, and he smiled tenderly at the notion. 

Reaching up to trace the elegant lines of Jim’s nose and jaw, his smile widened when his hand was grasped by a warm, slightly larger one. Bringing the captive palm to his mouth, Jim kissed it gently before placing both linked hands on his chest. 

Smiling up into the blue eyes looking at him now with such love, he murmured, “Hey, babe, you OK?” 

To which Blair replied, face falling in an expression of contrition, “Yeah, Jim, I am. But I’m so sorry I behaved so badly. So sorry I forced you to act out of sheer desperation. I think I always wanted this – wanted _us_ – but I was so scared--” 

“As you had every right to be, baby!” interrupted Jim, gently touching Blair’s lips with his free hand. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you at all. Sure I was angry – frustrated because I couldn’t seem to get through to you whatever I said, but no Guide should ever go through what you did, Chief. No Guide should be treated like you were. 

“But we’re together now, and if I can do anything to make up for your suffering – make your life better - I’ll do it”. 

And now understanding the Sentinel’s mind almost as well as his own, Blair knew Jim to be sincere, and loved him for it, even if realistically that perfect goal might never be achieved. 

“Thanks Jim. I truly appreciate it, man. It’s good of you to even consider letting me complete my PhD. But before that, I need to try to make up for my pissy attitude, even if I can’t promise perfection, Big Guy.” 

“Hey, I believe you, babe. But first let’s get this case wrapped up. I hate how it’s looking and what it could entail,” and Jim’s mouth twisted in disgust at the thought. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” came the soft reply as Blair’s eyes took on a faraway look, and a fleeting expression of old pain crossed his mobile features. 

“I know just where they’re coming from, man....” 

Reaching up to kiss away the sadness, Jim murmured, “That you do, babe. So let’s you and me get those bastard slavers stopped, want to?” 

And Blair nodded in heartfelt agreement.  


\---------------------------------  


**Part 3: Giving Trust:**  


**Following morning, MCU bullpen:**  


Bright and early the next morning, Sentinel and Guide entered the bullpen with Blair tucked snugly against Jim’s side. Although both faces wore identical expressions of grim determination, plainly prepared to put everything they had into the upcoming investigation, there was a marked difference in their individual body language which was immediately obvious to their closest friends and colleagues. 

As Joel and Megan glanced up from their desks, Megan was sure that both men, Blair in particular, seemed to almost glow with an indefinable ‘presence’, maybe some form of self-satisfaction – which had her leaping to her feet in her customary enthusiasm. 

Holding out both hands towards Blair she said, “Hey mates! How’re you doing? You look – urm – different somehow. And _you_ look good enough to eat, Sandy love! What’s up?” 

As Joel followed more sedately in her wake, face also wreathed in smiles, she gripped Blair’s shoulder with one hand while using the other to run gently over his head, almost as if petting him as she grinned into his upturned face. 

Blushing a delicate pink at his friend’s actions, Blair smiled sweetly up at her, shy but pleased with her whole-hearted welcome. 

“Um, well, yes. We _are_ a bit different,” he began, glancing up at Jim, eyes fairly shining in quiet delight. 

Grinning widely, Jim almost chortled as he added, “Yep! You could say everything’s changed, and all for the good!” and he looped his arm around Blair’s shoulders again, pulling him a tad possessively against his side and out of Megan’s clutches. 

Smiling down at Blair he continued more softly, “We’re fully bonded, guys. Blair is now my true Guide, as I am his Sentinel, and proud to be so!” And if that sounded sappy, well, tough. Iron Man Ellison couldn’t have cared less. 

Whooping in glee, Megan gripped his face and delivered a big, wet smacker of a kiss on his cheek, completely ignoring his grimace of mild dismay. 

“Bloody hell, mates! Warn a girl before making an announcement like that! Bloody good on you, both of you!” and she kissed Blair also, but much more sensitively, as Jim was quick to note. 

Having overheard the news, Joel also clapped Jim on the shoulder saying, “Great news, Jim! I’m so happy for you! I hoped so much that the two of you would take the final step, and I couldn’t be happier!” 

Turning to Blair, he clasped the younger man’s hand gently in both of his as he said, “Guide Sandburg – Blair. I know you’ve made the right decision, and I know Jim’ll take care of you, just as I know you will of him. MCU’s lucky to have you both!” 

Just then, H and Rafe appeared, quizzical expressions on both their faces as they took in the scene. 

Upon hearing the news, H virtually danced with pleasure, his wide smile almost splitting his round face as he chuckled, “Way to go, Jimbo! Well done, my man! And great choice, Hairboy! There’ll be no stopping you two now--” 

“And we’ll all benefit from the rising arrest and conviction rate,” added Rafe quietly, but totally without malice, just genuine pride and happiness for the new pair. 

Before the impromptu celebrations could continue, however, the gathering was quickly brought to heel at the entrance of Simon Banks. Through no fault of his own, the Captain was unacceptably late in arriving, at least to his way of thinking, and was decidedly ill-tempered because of it. 

“When you’ve quite finished with the coffee klatch, lady and gentlemen,” he snarled sarcastically, “Don’t we have a case or two to pursue?” 

As the others almost slunk back to their desks, Jim walked calmly up to his Captain, and, he hoped, friend, saying, “Sorry, Simon. It’s our fault. Just wanted to let everyone in on our good news. Blair and I are now fully bonded, and at your service!” and he reached out to pull Blair to his side, unembarrassed and visibly proud. 

Taken aback, but trying for pleased despite himself, Simon huffed out, “Hmmm, yes, well. I suppose congratulations are due. But first things first. With the best will in the world, I don’t have the time to celebrate with you like I should, but maybe once we’ve cracked this case...” and he offered a forced grin as he turned abruptly to make his way to his office shouting, “H, Rafe, Ellison and Sandburg. My office...!”  


\----------------------  


By lunchtime a considerable amount of progress had been made, and the MCU team was quietly hopeful that the case could be cracked before the FBI chose to involve themselves, even though they would probably be more than willing to help with the take-down and mopping up so they could muscle in on the glory. 

At Dan Wolf’s request, Jim had gone down to the ME’s office to view the three bodies for which he had just complete the autopsies, wanting the Sentinel to double check his findings and confirm that all evidence had been recovered satisfactorily. 

On hearing the news that Jim and Blair had bonded fully, the genial Native American fairly oozed quiet satisfaction, saying, “That’s really great news, Jim. I always knew you had a particularly strong gift, and I hoped that you would eventually find a Guide with similar abilities. Blair is a good man, despite his traumatic bonding with that witch Alex Barnes. A lesser man – or lesser Guide – would have been destroyed by being exposed to that amount of wickedness, but at the same time, he’s lucky to have you, Jim. You two were destined for each other, take my word for it!” 

Despite being a little sceptical, Jim knew Dan to be a good man himself, and very knowledgeable concerning Native American culture and diverse other anthropological ceremonies, so he replied, “Thanks, Dan. I know I’m lucky, and I hope that Blair feels the same. He’s improving by leaps and bounds both mentally and physically, and now I can truly help him. 

“But I’m not bringing him down here just yet,” he added with a chuckle. “I don’t think he’s quite ready to witness your handiwork, but I’ll definitely bring him down to visit when you’re not up to your armpits in gore!” 

Laughing heartily in response, Dan slapped him on the shoulder as they turned to enter the autopsy suite, smiles immediately turning to frowns and sobriety as they surveyed the three bodies.  


\-------------------  


Back in Simon’s office, Jim sat beside Blair as he filled in his Captain and the rest of the team on the results of Dan’s work, squeezing Blair’s knee comfortingly when the young empath shuddered slightly in recollection of the bloody crime scene. To his credit, Blair made no other sign unless one noted the distinct pallor as his face drained of colour, impressing Jim with his courage and fortitude under the circumstances. 

“OK, well, Dan has confirmed that the first two vics were executed by two gunshot wounds to the back of the head. He confirms that the weapon used was a 9mm semi-auto, and at least two of the slugs are in good enough condition to match with the murder weapon, if we ever find it. No shell casings were found at the scene, in keeping with a professional killer. 

“The good thing is that both have been identified by their prints, which were thrown up by IAFIS. (Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System). They are Dominic Xavier and his cousin Francis Montez, both small-time hoods-for-hire, and both have done time for pimping and sexual assault amongst other things. 

“Unfortunately, it’s highly unlikely that we’ll ever ID the third vic. Dan estimates him to be between twenty to twenty five years old, malnourished, but otherwise fairly healthy. Possibly Asian or Vietnamese. He has had no dental work – plenty of cavities though – and no sign of any medical intervention. He doesn’t have any notable physical characteristics either, and his face was just about destroyed. Just an unlucky kid, who managed to fall foul of Xavier and Montez, looks like. 

“Semen found in the rectum and on his clothes matches the other guys’ DNA, and his blood was spattered all over their clothes,” and he halted for a moment, face set in a grim frown as he let the others absorb his information. 

“So the first two dudes decided to have some fun with the third, get caught in the act by the boss, and are summarily executed,” mused H, brow creased in concentration. “I guess whoever is running the show has zero tolerance for stupidity, huh?” 

“Would seem like it, H,” continued Rafe, taking up the thread. “If the warehouse really does turn out to be one of the holding pens for illegals, those two doofuses could have really messed up things for their employers. In fact, I think they already succeeded, ‘cos of Jim here. Bet they never considered the scene being checked over by a Sentinel!” 

“Yeah, and one who picked up on the scent of all those illegals,” responded H, turning to face Jim with a look of respect. 

“Thanks, H. But it wouldn’t have happened without Blair to ground me. He’s as much to be congratulated as me.” 

“Yeah, we know it!” said H, grinning from ear to ear and holding his hand up to Blair for a high five. When Blair reciprocated with a pleased smile, the big detective chuckled, saying, “Way to go, Hairboy! MCU’s on a roll!” 

Listening to his team’s interaction, Simon Banks was initially gratified by the progress so far, but became irritated by the by-play, to the extent that he snapped crossly, “When you’ve quite finished, gentlemen, I think we need to continue!” earning himself not a few puzzled glances before the team settled down again. 

Shooting his boss a slightly irritated glance of his own, Jim decided he may as well continue with expounding what he and Blair had considered so far. 

“Right, then. Well, Blair did a lot of research yesterday, and pulled up some pretty telling information, which the autopsies appear to back up. 

“As you already know, we traced the owners of the warehouse to a company in Seattle who have plenty of similar properties up and down the West coast, and it would appear that they are perfectly legit. However, the ‘trading company’ they have leased several warehouses to, including the Cascade one, aren’t quite as pure as it would seem. 

“Blair and I don’t think that the Seattle company is involved in any way, and are, in fact, quite prepared to divulge information about their clients if necessary. If they’re guilty of anything, it’s for being too busy to check out each individual lessee and warehouse as and when it’s vacated. They use a local agency to give the properties a once-over, but I doubt it’s more than some guy sticking his head round the door and checking there’s no piles of crap left lying about. 

“On the other hand, Blair found a connection between the lessees and a high-profile gang in San Diego. It’s a bit tenuous as yet, but we think it has value. You want to explain, Chief?” and he smiled encouragingly at Blair, who nodded in acquiescence. 

“Um, well, sir, it’s like this,” the young man began somewhat nervously, but gathering momentum as he progressed. 

“While Jim was down with the ME, I did a bit more phoning around, and I was lucky enough to get a really helpful secretary at the Seattle Company office. She had no problem with giving me the name and business address of the ‘trading company’ - Bulk Trading Inc. - who leased the Cascade property even though she didn’t have any other details to divulge. 

“Anyway, I did bit more research using various databases, corporative as well as law enforcement ones, and came up with one name in particular among the trading partners – a Carlos Montiguez, who raised a flag in several PDs. With a bit more phoning, I traced a detective in the San Diego PD who told me the guy had been arrested on suspicion of various crimes over the past couple of years, but none of the charges stuck because of a distinct lack of witnesses and solid evidence. These alleged crimes included prostitution rackets, and – get this – possible white slavery involving young Hispanic girls and Vietnamese boys and girls, all illegal, and all unavailable when the charges were being investigated. When he was released, Montiguez apparently cut his ties with the local racketeers and disappeared from the San Diego area, and has either been keeping his nose clean, or at least, keeping under the radar since,” and he tailed off, gazing around him at the others and hoping he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself. 

He needn’t have worried, though, because Jim was smiling at him in open admiration, and both H and Rafe were nodding and looking thoughtful. Even Simon couldn’t keep a small smirk of satisfaction off his face as he studied the young man over his clasped hands. 

“Good work, Sandburg,” he said, for once making no effort to keep the approval out of his tone. 

“I guess all that grad school research stands you in good stead to surf the net and make connections that might not be immediately obvious, and this just may be the break we need. 

“But don’t get cocky,” he continued on a warning note. “There’s still nothing to replace good, old-fashioned police work!” 

“Um, no Captain. I realise that, sir,” replied Blair meekly, suitably chastened although he could feel Jim’s displeasure and indignation on his behalf without looking at him. 

“Right then,” Simon continued, without missing a beat. “Time for you men to get busy working on finding this Montiguez guy. And when you track him down, I want you to get him for something that’ll stick this time. I don’t want scum like him on my patch! Report back with what you’ve got, if anything, by the end of the afternoon. Dismissed!”  


\------------------------  


As they trooped out of Simon’s office, Jim gave his Guide a quick squeeze, murmuring, “You OK, Chief?” 

“Yeah, man, I’m OK. I guess can understand where Captain Banks is coming from after all. I guess I sounded like a nerdy academic, huh?” Blair responded, a little despondently. 

“Nah, babe, you didn’t at all,” said H, who had overheard the exchange. “Simon just gets wound up when cases like this turn up on his turf. Add to that the possibility of the fibbies sticking their noses in and trying to grab all the glory, and he’s liable to bite the nearest head off--” 

And then broke off looking slightly abashed when Banks’ sarcastic tones followed them across the bullpen growling, “Don’t you have work to do, _Detectives?”_

Gathering at Jim and Blair’s desk, the four principal team members quickly decided on the best division of labour as far as they could, with H and Rafe opting to trying to find out more about the two dead perps in an attempt to back-track up the trading company’s hierarchy to trace whoever hired them – and ordered them terminated when they had outlived their usefulness and endangered the organisation. 

Jim and Blair chose to check out the company’s Cascade business address; although they fully expected that it may turn out to be little more than a mail-drop. But as Jim remarked, it was as good a place as any to start, and they might just get lucky if there were a couple of nosy neighbours they could talk to.  


\---------------------  


**2 Hours later, Cascade’s Bayside Business District:**  


Jim and Blair tracked the address to an unremarkable office block in a moderately prosperous area of the Business District. Obviously not simply a mail-drop, Bulk Trading Inc’s office proved to be clean, cheaply decorated in a bland, generic style and manned by a prim-looking and well-turned-out, middle-aged receptionist, and at least one other occupant, according to Jim’s hearing. 

When they entered, Jim asked to see the office manager, but the receptionist was most unwilling to disturb her boss. However, on carefully checking the pair’s credentials, she stiffly agreed to ‘see if he could spare them a few minutes’. 

As she entered the rear office, Blair used soft words and touch to ground Jim as he listened in to the forthcoming conversation, Jim whispering his report to Blair as the conversation progressed. 

Plainly unhappy, the receptionist announced the Detective’s arrival and request, to be answered by a light but anxious male voice: 

“Cops, you said? Are you sure, Martha? You _did_ check their IDs properly?” 

Martha, (sounding put out): “Naturally, sir! They are perfectly genuine. I wouldn’t allow any imposters to enter!” 

“All right, all right, Martha! I wasn’t criticising you...” (Conciliatorily.) 

“No, sir, of course not.” (Snippy and sarcastic.) 

“Look, tell them I’ll be out in five, OK? Say I’m on a conference call or something! I’ll be out soon. You can offer them coffee....” (Patronisingly.) 

“But of course, sir...” (Long-suffering sigh, and aggrieved tone.) 

When the receptionist returned to her desk, she said, “Mr Carson is a very busy man, and he is on a conference call at the moment. But he says he can spare you a few minutes once the call is done. May I offer you gentlemen some refreshment in the meantime?” and her tone and body language plainly indicated that she hoped they would turn her down, and preferably come back later. Much later. 

However, by prior agreement Jim and Blair both accepted coffee, wanting to take the opportunity to listen in to the telephone conversation now commencing in the rear office while Martha busied herself in the tiny kitchen adjoining the Reception area. 

Concentrating again, Jim overheard the following exchange. 

“Mr Montiguez? It’s Jerry Carson here--” 

“What do you want?” a lightly-accented voice growled abruptly. “I told you never to call this number except in an emergency. This had better be worth it!” 

“It is, sir, believe me! There’re two cops sitting in Reception, Ellison and Sandburg according to the IDs they showed Martha, and they want to see me. Martha’s keeping them happy with coffee, but they’re showing no inclination to leave before interviewing me. What shall I do? I mean, there’s nothing here that isn’t legit, I’m sure, but after the warehouse incident--” 

“Stop panicking, man! Shut up and stop worrying! There’s no way they can connect you to that particular cargo, OK? The only paperwork you have on file is for completely legal transactions. All they have is two dead low-lifes caught buggering some unknown kid and killed in revenge who just happen to have been found in a warehouse that we rent from time to time. Of course they’re going to want to interview everyone who has a connection with the scene – stands to reason. 

“But Hammond’s a pro. He won’t have left any trail that could implicate our company, so just get on out there and deal with them while I make a couple calls; see if they really are a threat...!” 

As Jim pulled back his hearing and shot a warning glance at Blair, the rear office door opened to reveal a skinny, weasel-faced man of middling height, presumably Jerry Carson. 

Carson entered the reception area, a forced smile of welcome on his noticeably sweaty and worried face – at least, to Sentinel vision – and Sentinel hearing picked up his heart doing a quickstep in his narrow chest. 

Opening his shields a little, Blair could easily read the man’s anxiety, and Sentinel and Guide exchanged a faintly satisfied glance as they turned their attention to what Carson had to say. 

“Gentlemen! So sorry to have kept you waiting! I hope Martha has been looking after you satisfactorily,” he began with false joviality. “Now, what can I do for you? I can assure you that our company has had no problems recently which require police intervention...” and he tailed off nervously, eyes flicking from one to another. 

Assuming his most stone-faced and calculating expression, Jim studied the increasingly jittery man for a long moment before finally gracing him with a small, tight smile. 

“Sorry to trouble you, Mr Carson,” he began smoothly, “but my name is Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit, and this is my partner, Mr Blair Sandburg. We’re here to ask you a few questions about a warehouse your company leases on occasion down at Cascade’s Bayside Dock,” and his smile widened, taking on a predatory menace as the other man paled significantly at his words. 

“I’m sorry, Detective Ellison,” he stuttered, plainly ill at ease at being so addressed before he had even had time to introduce himself properly. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, gentlemen. I mean, our company leases several warehouses in the Cascade area, as well as up and down the West coast, and to the best of my knowledge, we haven’t used the Bayside location for several weeks....” 

“And what were you storing there then, Mr Carson? Can you show us the inventory?” 

“Um, certainly, Detective,” Carson replied, plainly relieved at the innocuous-sounding request and gesturing imperiously to Martha. 

Rigid with overt disapproval, the secretary pulled the appropriate file from a cabinet behind her desk, handing it over with thin-lipped bad grace as she studied the two visitors with disdain and scant civility. 

Flicking through the thin folder, as expected Jim found that the cargo of machine tools and spares appeared to be perfectly legitimate and fully documented. However, he had already learned from the private security firm who patrolled the dock that there had been ‘movement and lights on’ at the crime scene just two days ago, although that didn’t necessarily implicate Carson or his company. Added to that, the security firm’s representatives hadn’t chosen to check out the activity in more depth, whether from idleness or habitual indifference it wasn’t clear. 

“Well, this seems perfectly in order, Mr Carson,” he began, noting the minute signs of relaxation in the other man’s posture. 

“However, we have already ascertained that there was activity at that location much more recently, and according to the Seattle company you lease your warehouses from, there have been no other lessees for that particular property for – oh, let’s see – at least a year. Is there something you’re not telling us, Mr Carson?” And he smiled benignly at the now profusely sweating man, inviting his confidence and hoping that he would fall for Jim’s bluff. 

Even as the sputtering and panicky manager drew himself up to refute the implication, and Martha’s expression soured even further, Jim was distracted by footsteps approaching rapidly from the direction of the alley between the office building and its neighbour. Sending a swift warning glance to Blair, whose face betrayed his surprise and puzzlement, seconds too late Jim half rose to his feet, only for the outer door to burst open to reveal three very intimidating figures, all of whom were armed and looked more than capable of using their weapons with extreme prejudice if required. 

“Stand up slowly, cop,” the first gunman ordered as his companions moved further into the room. “Take your weapon out with your left hand - thumb and forefinger only - and kick it over here. No sudden movements, OK, or your little partner gets it first.” 

Taking in the tall man’s easy familiarity with his weapon, and the flat, dead eyes of a cold-blooded killer, Jim knew this was a man to be taken seriously. Any thought of retaliation was swiftly forgotten as Blair’s muffled gasp from behind him told him that one of the others had grabbed his Guide, and he glanced back to see Blair pulling desperately at a beefy arm wrapped around his neck, threatening to choke off his breathing while a pistol pressed cruelly against his temple. 

“OK, OK, just don’t hurt him,” growled Jim, jaw tight with anger and self-reproach for being caught flat-footed so easily. 

Standing up slowly, he reached carefully inside his jacket and retrieved his service weapon, lowering it to the floor and kicking it over towards his captor, eyes never leaving the other man’s face. 

“You, Carson. Pick that up and hand it to me,” commanded the first man, cold eyes narrowing in disgust and annoyance when the man failed to respond immediately to his orders. 

Instead he whined pitifully, “B B But I d d don’t like guns! I don’t know how to use one! I don’t want to shoot myself by accident!” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grated Jim’s captor. “You, Martha! You do it!” and he sneered at Carson in disgust as she warily did as he asked, adding, “At least she’s got some balls! Fucking gutless piece of shit! 

“Now,” addressing Jim again. “Hands behind your back, and don’t move a muscle, pal. My colleague’s going to get your cuffs and put them on you, so no funny business or your little cutie gets an extra hole in his head.” 

Having no alternative but to obey, Jim did as he was ordered, and was quickly cuffed by the third gunman, who patted him down efficiently and retrieved the backup .38 from Jim’s ankle holster. Moments later both he and Blair were hustled out of the office into the side alley, where a dark blue panel van waited. Thrown roughly into the back, Blair bit off a moan of pain as he landed heavily against the bench seat that ran around the inside, his left side and shoulder catching the edge with bruising force. Dragged up again and dumped onto the seat, his captor squeezed him deliberately into the corner, leering salaciously as he pressed himself tightly up against the trembling young man, holding him in place by his impressive bulk. 

As the third man ran round to the cab to climb into the driver’s seat, Jim’s captor pushed him into the van and indicated that he sit in the opposite corner to Blair where the gunman could both watch him and guard the exit. 

Once the van moved off, although Jim had his guard pegged as a professional hit man; possibly the ‘Hammond’ mentioned by Montiguez in the telephone conversation with Carson; he knew he had to at least try to talk to the guy in the hope that he or his henchman might inadvertently provide them with a bit of useful information. 

Ruthlessly controlling his helpless fury at the second man’s lecherous pawing at his Guide, Jim met and held Blair’s terrified gaze, willing the younger man to stay with him and not to give in to the panic Jim was sure he must be feeling, being kidnapped for the second time in his young life. 

Reassured by Blair’s tiny nod despite his obvious distress, Jim felt awed by the younger man’s courage, even as he prayed he would be able to live up to Blair’s hopes and expectations and could actually manage to save both their hides. 

“You know you’re making a huge mistake, don’t you?” he began conversationally, addressing the first gunman, and somehow managing to keep his own expression calm and unworried. 

“We haven’t really got any hard evidence as regards the warehouse killings yet. You can still let us go and be no worse off as long as you keep your heads down. I mean, we don’t have anything connecting you guys to any organisation. Nothing incriminating, just circumstantial. And you know how it goes with cop killers. No mercy, zero tolerance. And my partner is an unarmed civilian, and no threat to you. At least let him go...” 

The only response Jim’s words elicited from the first man was a cold-eyed and expressionless stare, but the second guy sneered as he said boastfully, “You got to be shitting us, cop. No way are you walking away from this, whether you got evidence or not. And this little cutie’s not going anywhere either – at least, not until I’ve finished playing with him! We got orders--” 

But any hope that Jim had that the garrulous thug might say anything useful was stopped cold as the first man turned his flat gaze on his henchman and hissed quietly, “Shut...Up!” The pure menace in his tone worked instantly as the second guy swallowed noisily, nodded once, and then turned his attention back to Blair, plainly working on re-establishing his persona as a hard man for the benefit of his captive audience. 

The remainder of the mercifully short journey passed in silence if you discounted the cruel chuckles from the second thug, and the barely-suppressed whimpers that the man’s groping drew from Blair. Jim’s growls of rage from deep in his throat were all but inaudible as he was forced to witness his Guide’s distress, but the implacable fury in his face boded ill for anyone in his path should he get the opportunity for vengeance. 

Finally the van pulled up, having entered what Jim perceived to be some sort of large garage or storage area, and he easily made out the sounds of heavy, electrically-controlled doors closing behind them. 

When the van doors opened to reveal a brightly-lit loading bay, Jim quickly scanned the area as their captors unceremoniously hauled him and a rather dishevelled Blair out, and what he saw convinced him that they were in real trouble.  


\----------------------------  


**Meanwhile, at MCU, Simon Banks’ office:**  


H and Rafe sat in front of Simon’s desk, both looking decidedly worried as they made their report. Leaning forward, with an unaccustomed frown on his round and open face, H explained how their investigation had progressed so far. 

“You see, Captain, when we went down to the Bayside Docks area, I caught sight of one of my snitches, ‘Stinky Moran’. And if you saw him, Captain, you’d know where he gets his name from! See, Stinky is a homeless person, not altogether there, if you know what I mean, but he doesn’t knowingly lie, and sometimes he can come up with some worthwhile info. 

“Anyhow, he said he had been dumpster-diving behind the warehouse we were looking at just a couple of days ago, pretty late at night, he says, when there was a deal of activity. Nothing too overt, you see, but Stinky thought he’d better keep hidden, just in case he got rousted, you know what I mean? 

“Anyhow, he thought nothing of it until the following night, when he saw two men enter the warehouse through a side door, real furtive, according to Stinky. On the off chance, we showed him the morgue shots of the two executed vics, and he swears he recognised them, but didn’t know their names, just that he’s seen them around on occasion. But a while later, he says he heard strange noises – grunting and groaning sort of – but didn’t want to draw attention to himself as he’d found a pretty good source of stuff in the dumpsters, know what I mean? And it’s not as if he’d be a reliable witness in court anyhow. 

“Turns out, he was just about going to sleep in a pile of cardboard beside the dumpster, when he says another two guys arrived, went into the warehouse, and came out a bit later, but not before he heard noises like a car back-firing, or maybe gunshots. 

“He wasn’t about to draw attention to himself, though, so he just hid underneath his pile of cardboard, and forgot about it, know what I mean? And he didn’t get to see the two guys’ faces this time. 

“Thing is, Captain, his description more or less ties up with the sequence of events reported by the local so-called ‘Security’ firm that Blair contacted – minus the mention of the ‘gunshots’, that is - so he may well have been a reluctant witness to whatever went on inside.” 

Looking to his partner, H gave over the narration to Rafe, who continued by saying, “We realise there’s nothing particularly substantial in Stinky’s story, sir, but one further thing has us really worried. We arranged to contact Jim and Blair after they had visited Bulk Trading Inc’s office to touch base and compare notes, and that was over two hours ago. It’s not like Jim to miss a meet during a case as bad as this, at least, not without letting us know, so we did a bit more checking up following Blair’s research pattern while we waited. 

“Come to find out, the Carlos Montiguez Blair pinpointed seems to have another private office-cum-storage unit in another part of Cascade’s business district, whereabouts unknown at present because the database has been compromised somehow – most likely deliberately. 

“But we’re really concerned for their safety, Captain. We’d like to go back to the first address, and see if we can shake something out of the personnel there. Do we have your permission to do that?” 

Rubbing a large hand over his face, which now mirrored his concern for his men, Simon thought for a moment before responding. 

“This isn’t good,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Jim and Blair possibly missing, and a potential leak in the department?” 

Then, looking back up at his detectives, face set and angry, he said, “OK. All right. Yes, I do want you to check out the first address, and if you have to threaten the occupants, do it! Wring the second address out of them if you need to, but get it! I’ll have backup ready and waiting for your information, and be ready to roll as soon as you give us the nod. 

“But don’t go there on your own, hear me? We have to get Jim and Blair back, but preferably in one piece, and I don’t want to risk losing one of you two, either, OK? Go! Get what you can from Bulk Trading’s minions, and report back a.s.a.p!”  


\-------------------------------  


Back in Montiguez’ storage unit, Jim and Blair stood side by side, flanked by their original three captors, whose number had now swelled to seven, having been joined by three more equally well-armed and dangerous-looking individuals, plus an immaculately turned out and handsome Hispanic man of around Jim’s age, who Jim was certain must be the elusive Carlos Montiguez himself. 

Slowly circling the pair, Montiguez wore a self-satisfied smirk as his sharp eyes studied his captives, and when he finished his tour, he addressed them directly, specifically targeting Jim with his words. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, _Sentinel Detective Ellison!”_ he taunted. “You see, I know exactly who you are, and _what_ you are, cop! As soon as my office manager apprised me of your identity, I did a little checking up on you. I have my sources within your department, of course! How else would I know what you cops are up to? And when I learned that you had recently bonded, I just knew that this adorable little boy must be your new Guide!” he continued, casting an assessing and lecherous look at Blair, who shivered in disgust at being so openly ogled. 

Plainly enjoying himself, Montiguez continued, quite happy to impress his captives with his power and cleverness, sure that the knowledge would do them no good since he had no intention of ever letting them go. 

“Now, if you had been an ordinary detective, plain and simple, I probably would have let you go on your way none the wiser, as I knew you wouldn’t have anything on me. But a Sentinel would have listened in to my conversations, am I right? Seeing as that idiot Carson disobeyed my instructions and called me in his panic. So you already knew too much to be allowed to live! 

“But I’m sure you are well aware of my little side-line, no? And I know many people who would pay top dollar for an empath like your little Guide, _Sentinel!_ In fact, I can quite see myself making use of him – he’s quite beautiful, don’t you agree? Of course you do! And I’m sure he must be a good lay too – such a pretty little bitch, and so very accommodating with all that wonderful empathy! 

“So, down to business! You will tell me everything you know about the ongoing investigation into my affairs – particularly about that unfortunate warehouse business – and I shall make sure you die quickly. Of course, if you are reluctant, I shall have great pleasure in letting my men beat it out of you, then you can watch me take your little Guide in front of your dying eyes. Perhaps let my men take their turn with him also, hmm? 

“Shall we begin?” and he nodded to the two men nearest to Jim, who grabbed his arms and pulled him over to the wall, where he was positioned with his back against the brickwork, wrists quickly uncuffed and reattached to ringbolts and shackles above his head. 

As Jim was seized, Blair cried out in protest, and tried to grab hold of his lover’s arm, only to be quickly restrained by two other thugs, including the one who had already pawed at him, and whose face wore a look of unholy glee as he made the most of feeling up his wriggling captive. 

“Can’t wait to take my turn, baby!” he muttered in Blair’s ear. “Got to get me a piece of your sweet ass!” 

Struggling even harder, Blair tried vainly to kick the lecher’s shins, but without success, and only managed to earn himself a hard slap across the face by an angry Montiguez. 

“Be still, Guide! Don’t make me mark you up more than I have to,” he hissed viciously. “The more you struggle, the more your partner gets hurt, so behave yourself! I’ll get to you in due course.” 

Immediately turning his attention to where Jim was now virtually hanging from the wall by his wrists, Blair quieted instantly, although his pale features wore an expression of deep shock and distress, nearly all of which was on behalf of his Sentinel. 

Sub-vocally he whispered, “Oh Jim, please don’t let them hurt you! Tell them what they want to know, and don’t worry about me. I’m sure we’ll get out of this! I love you....” 

Locking his gaze with Blair’s Jim smiled at his love, ignoring his guards for a moment while he sent comforting thoughts to the younger man, knowing that he was going to resist as long as he could if it meant buying enough time for his friends at MCU to ride to their rescue. 

Reluctantly tearing his eyes from Blair, his expression hardened as he met Montiguez’ frowning gaze and he sneered as he addressed the slaver with contempt. 

“If you know so much about me, _Montiguez,_ then you should also know that I don’t give up easily. I’ve faced worse than you and your thugs before now – even Hammond there...” and he paused for a second, grimly gratified to see the quickly-suppressed flicker of surprise on the first gunman’s face as he was identified, and the anger that suffused Montiguez’ features. 

“And if you hurt my Guide, I’ll tear you limb from limb,” he added menacingly, pleased when Montiguez actually blanched a little at this threat even though he was completely at the thug’s mercy. 

However, the crime lord’s unease swiftly disappeared as he visibly puffed up in fury. 

“I think not, Ellison! Now, let’s get this show on the road, as they say, and you can forget about dying easily now, cop. I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer far too much, especially when those sense dials of yours spin out of control! And your little friend is going to keep me company all the way.” Then, nodding to his men, he ordered, “Hurt him!” 

As Blair cried out in fear and outrage, Jim barely had time to prepare and dial down his sense of touch before the first blows fell....   


\-----------------------------  


**Earlier at Bulk Trading Inc’s office, Bayside Business District:**  


As H and Rafe approached their destination, they saw no trace of Jim’s truck anywhere in the vicinity, and called in to Simon at the MCU with the information. Knowing that Banks had already put out an APB on the vehicle, they were disgusted when they heard back that some idiot traffic cop had had the truck towed and impounded without checking up first on the owner’s identity, therefore wasting precious time in the search for Jim and Blair. 

Already worried and angered further by the uniform’s stupidity, the partners were in no mood for subtlety when they burst into Bulk Trading Inc’s office. Stalking up to the receptionist’s desk, H leaned aggressively over the already thoroughly cowed middle-aged woman seated there, demanding to see her boss. 

Now Martha was still extremely shaken by the events earlier that afternoon, so much so that she had been in two minds as to whether she should hand in her notice immediately and walk out, or bide her time in the hope that Montiguez would live up to his reputation for being Teflon-coated when it came to criminal charges. After all, it was an extremely well-paid and undemanding position, and although she didn’t see herself as criminal in any way, up until now she had been quite prepared to turn a blind eye to anything suspicious. This time, however, the incident had taken place in her presence, and she was rightly scared of being hauled in as an accomplice. 

Prim and disdainful attitude now completely absent, she quickly directed the two irate and determined detectives to the appropriate door before dropping her face into her hands in self-pity. She’d left it too late, and now she was going to have to face up to the consequences. 

Pushing into the inner office, the partners were confronted with the sight of Jerry Carson, almost gibbering with panic, vainly trying to shred every piece of paper in his possession, whether incriminating or not. 

Before they even spoke, he threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender, babbling, “Nothing to do with me, officers! Whatever you want, I didn’t do it! I’m just an office manager, that’s all. I don’t know anything about anything, I swear...!” 

“Oh, but I think you do, Mr Carson,” replied H stonily, face uncharacteristically grim because of his concern for his missing friends. 

As he and Rafe moved closer to invade the shaking man’s personal space, he continued threateningly, “We know you have connections to Carlos Montiguez, and we know your telephone records will prove you called his private line this afternoon, won’t they? Now what we want from you is the address for Montiguez’ private storage unit. And don’t even think of lying to us, Carson. He’s taken our friends, and we won’t let anything or anyone stand in our way when it comes to getting them back!” 

Completely falling for H’s bluff, Carson sat down abruptly as his legs gave way, wailing, “But you don’t understand! This is the Head Office of a bona fide trading company! As far as I know, the other partners are completely legit, just sleeping partners! I never wanted to get involved with anything shady, I swear! So I never wanted to know the actual address of Mr Montiguez’ other property, you see? Just a number to call in an emergency, honest! But I can give you that at least...” and he scrabbled around amongst the few remaining intact papers left in a side draw. 

Pulling out a small card and holding it aloft in triumph, he said, “Here it is, detectives! I do want to help, you see! I was supposed to memorise it and throw it away, but my memory was never that good...” and he tailed off in pathetic hope as Rafe quickly pulled out his cell and relayed the number to Simon to trace. 

That done, he and H wasted no more time in taking both Carson and Martha into custody to face charges of aiding and abetting a kidnap for starters, and hurried back to the PD, still worried, but ready and eager to be part of any operation to find their missing colleagues.  


\------------------------  


In Montiguez’ storage unit, Blair sobbed in distress as he witnessed Jim’s brutal punishment, pleading for mercy for his Sentinel to no avail. Although he had held back from weeping on his own behalf for weeks now, he had no control over the tears that flowed freely in sympathy for Jim, and he had no intention of trying. 

“Please, please stop,” he choked out, no longer struggling, but simply hanging in his captors’ harsh grip. “We don’t know anything for certain, I swear! Please, I’ll do anything, just please stop beating him!” 

Holding his hand up to indicate a brief pause, Montiguez smiled almost gently down at the young Guide’s tear-stained face, tilting Blair’s head up to meet his gaze with a finger under his chin. 

“Oh, I quite agree, little one. You _will_ do anything I want, but it won’t stop the inevitable. Ellison has to die, and it pleases me to make his end as painful and protracted as possible. My men know their business, you see, and will work on inflicting the most pain for the least injury before moving on to more permanent and then lethal damage as directed, so you’ll have plenty of time yet to watch him suffer. By the time they’ve finished with him, even the presence of his Guide won’t help him! And when they get to the final stages, I’ll strip you and rape you in front of him, so the last thing he sees will be your pain and humiliation, and the last thing he’ll think is how he failed to protect you, his Guide!” 

Barely conscious, and exhausted from the effort of trying to control his senses, Jim raised his head and tried to see through his swollen lids, blinking back the blood that trickled from gashes in his scalp and eyebrows. Forcing himself to focus, he made out the fuzzy outline of his beloved Guide, and growled in helpless fury as he listened to Montiguez’ cruel words. Heart breaking at the devastation he could still distinguish on Blair’s beautiful face, he knew that the young empath was completely focussed on his Sentinel rather than on his own safety, and he knew that no one had ever loved him like that before, and the realisation humbled him. He just prayed that he could hold on long enough to allow Simon and his friends to at least rescue Blair before he could be violated any more by those animals, even though he himself had little hope of coming out of this situation alive. 

Concentrating on pulling together every last bit of his remaining courage and endurance, Jim braced himself for the next onslaught, waiting almost impatiently for something which never came....  


\------------------------  


When H and Rafe arrived back at the PD, they found Simon briefing the SWAT commander whose men had been called on to help with the upcoming raid. He had already assembled the rest of his team, having traced the location of Montiguez’ storage unit from the telephone number Carson had supplied with the help of the forensic department and the phone company. He had also enlisted a very willing Megan and Joel as well as several trusted uniforms to swell the numbers. 

Any doubt as to the missing men’s location had been removed after Megan had asked, “Has anyone checked Sandy’s tracker? Because it’s pretty much a certainty that where he is, Jimbo’ll be also!” 

Sure enough, the coordinates from the signal sent by the activated ankle bracelet corresponded with the known address, and within the hour they were ready to roll, and set out with grim determination. 

Muting their lights and sirens once in the vicinity of the unobtrusive but well-maintained unit, Simon quickly dispersed his personnel to watch all access points and close off the roads while the SWAT team took up their positions in the locations offering the optimum visibility, particularly for the snipers in the team. True, it was a hurriedly prepared operation, but Simon had every faith in his people, all of whom were experienced in similar scenarios, and all of whom were fully focussed on rescuing their precious Sentinel and Guide pair. 

With everyone in position, Simon spoke with the SWAT commander on his mic, saying, “OK, Jameson. We’re good to go. Now, is your Sentinel set to listen in?” referring to Jameson’s top pairing, which also made up his best sniper unit. 

“Sure thing, Captain Banks,” came the confident reply. “My man’s already listening in, but I have to tell you, it’s not sounding good. He says that your man Ellison’s been beaten already, and his Guide is about to be raped, probably by Montiguez. I think we need to get things moving a.s.a.p!” 

“You’re right. Does your man have a clear shot at all?” replied Banks, praying that their efforts wouldn’t be too late for Jim. 

“If we draw their attention by approaching from the front gates, can your man take at least one of them down?” 

After a brief consultation, Jameson replied, “Affirmative, Captain. Right now he has Montiguez in his sights.” 

“Then we’re good to go,” Banks growled. Addressing his team, he said, “OK. We’re going in! But no unnecessary heroics, you hear me? Jim won’t thank you for it if you get yourselves killed. Approach with due caution, but make it count, people! Give the SWAT Sentinel sniper team a chance to shine!”  


\----------------  


Afterwards, it seemed like mere seconds until the whole operation was completed; from the first shot to the last. 

As the MCU team attacked the main doors, the SWAT Sentinel sniper took out Montiguez with a single shot, throwing the man across the room, his head reduced to a shattered, red mess of fragmented bone and brain matter. 

With the exception of Hammond, the rest of Montiguez’ men panicked, throwing their weapons down, and surrendering, unwilling to die while there was still a chance to worm their way out of the harshest of sentences. 

However, Hammond was made of much sterner stuff; a consummate professional killer who had already come to terms with eventually dying doing his duty, but unwilling to go out alone. Grabbing the distraught Guide to him, he backed into a reasonably sheltered corner, fully intending to take the young man with him, should the cops persist in trying to take him down. 

Even as the cops burst into the room, weapons drawn and already covering the cowering remnants of Montiguez’ gang, Hammond yanked Blair tightly against him, snarling like a beast at bay, and determined to make the cops suffer for attempting to take him out. 

Unfortunately for him, he had never before encountered a Guide in full protective mode, and most likely wouldn’t have believed it possible anyway. But anyone who made an in-depth study of Sentinel and Guide pairs would be aware of the phenomenon, understanding that the need to protect was a two-way process. Blair was totally committed to rescuing his Sentinel, and nothing and no one was going to stop him from doing his utmost to save them both. 

Despite his deep insecurities and personal fears, Blair now had another goal altogether. Even though terrified at the possibility of being shot by Hammond, he found the strength to focus on Jim, whispering, “I’m here, lover. I won’t let him destroy us!” 

Fixing his loving gaze on Jim, Blair opened his shields and deliberately sought out the other Sentinel presence he could feel, murmuring sub-vocally, “Sentinel! I’m going to try and distract Hammond. Take your shot, and don’t feel bad if I don’t duck in time! Good luck and thank you.” 

Before he could reconsider his actions, Blair kicked backwards, then went limp, unbalancing Hammond with the sudden dead weight in his arms. Barely registering the killing shot, Blair fell to the floor, partly covered by the dead body of Hammond, who had died instantly from a bullet between the eyes. 

Struggling free from the heavy corpse, and totally ignoring the fresh blood and tissue spattering his clothing Blair pushed to his feet and ran to Jim, desperate to hold and comfort his lover, but unsure of where to touch him, so battered was the beautiful body still hanging by its wrists against the wall. 

“Oh please, get him down,” Blair sobbed. “Please, let me help him!” and he stood helplessly before his wounded and bleeding Sentinel, hands hovering above bruised and damaged flesh. 

Quickly covering the space between them, Simon wrapped a comforting arm around the trembling Guide’s shoulders, saying, “It’s OK, Blair. The paramedics are here, and they’ll take care of Jim, I promise you. Just keep it together for a few minutes more, kid, and they’ll get him into the ambulance and take him to the hospital. And you’ll travel with him, Guide. I’ll see to it!”  


\-------------------------  


**Epilogue: ‘Without trust, there is nothing’:**  


**Three weeks later, The Loft, Sunday morning:**  


With a heavy sigh, Jim let himself into #307, having been down to the bakery for fresh muffins and pastries. Locking the door behind him, he made his way carefully over to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb his Guide, who was enjoying a well-deserved lie-in. 

Truth be told, Jim was still feeling stiff and sore from the injuries resulting from his beating, and colourful, if fading bruises still marred his handsome features. But he knew himself to be a lucky man, and was looking forwards to going back to work tomorrow now that the last of his stitches had been removed, even if he would remain on desk duty for a few more days until fully mobile once again. 

As he pottered around the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine and gathering plates and napkins for the pastries, he decided on impulse that he would treat Blair to breakfast in bed. The gods only knew how grateful Jim was for the warm bundle of love and concern presently snuggled up in their big bed, and he thought back over the past three weeks as he set up the tray in readiness.  


\----------------------  


When Jim had been admitted to the hospital, although he had an impressive number of very messy-looking soft tissue injuries, and plentiful deep bruising, he had actually escaped more serious damage such as internal injuries and broken bones, but only because Montiguez had been enjoying himself too much. Jim well knew that it was purely down to the man’s sadistic desire to make his suffering last as long as possible that the beating hadn’t progressed much beyond the ‘maximum pain, minimum damage’ stage. Not that he’d have known or appreciated the difference at the time. 

Having said that, he had still been kept under observation for three days just to make sure nothing had been overlooked, and to ensure that his senses weren’t troubling him overmuch. _As if that was possible with Blair in constant attendance..._ he thought, smiling softly to himself. 

Smile widening in recollection, Jim had been apprised of how the young man had resolutely and vehemently refused to leave his side throughout transportation, treatment and admission, stubbornly holding Jim’s hand and murmuring soothingly as he coaxed Jim through agonising pain spikes until the Sentinel could once again control his senses and use the dials effectively. 

Even when Jim was sleeping, Blair had refused to do more than take the occasional bathroom break, so the other MCU detectives had taken it upon themselves to ensure that Blair was provided with fresh clothes and toiletries, and plenty of good coffee and snacks, knowing that the Guide would forget to feed himself unless pressed into it. 

Luckily, the hospital shared some of their medical staff with the Sentinel and Guide Department Medical Wing, so Jim’s doctor was well aware that Sentinel and Guide should be kept together, and had a cot placed next to Jim’s bed so Blair could at least catch a few hours’ reasonably comfortable sleep.  


\--------------  


As he placed mugs of fresh coffee on the tray, Jim frowned a little in self-reproach, knowing that he hadn’t made it easy on his Guide even after he was discharged. 

An injured and immobile Jim was a cranky Jim, and Blair had fallen foul of his crabbiness on more than one occasion during Jim’s convalescence. However, even when visibly hurt and upset, Blair had refused to leave his side, and nursed him tirelessly with capability and a compassion that in retrospect, Jim didn’t think he merited. 

Over the past few days, however, he had done his best to make amends, cuddling and petting Blair at every opportunity, and basking in the delighted smiles the actions provoked in his lover. He had also apologised profusely for his ill-temper, but Blair had insisted that he understood, and didn’t mind, even though Jim knew for sure he had hurt the younger man’s feelings deeply on several occasions. 

But by far the best thing he had done, at least in his own opinion, was to approach Rainier University, and get Blair reinstated on the doctoral programme. He had deliberately kept quiet about his mission, as he didn’t want to get Blair’s hopes up unnecessarily should the request be turned down for some reason. 

His grin widened further as he recalled how Blair had reacted on hearing the news.  


\----------------------  


When Blair had returned from a trip to the basement to do the laundry, Jim had pulled him down next to him on the sofa, mindful of his wrenched knee and bruising but still holding the younger man close, and had given him the good news. 

“Oh man! Oh Jim! Thank you so much! I can’t believe you went to all that trouble for me – it’s fantastic!” 

“It’s no more than you deserve, Chief. After all you’ve done for me; it’s the least I could do. And if you want to go in that direction eventually, it’ll stand you in good stead should you decide to take up profiling or some such in the department, and that’d get you some real money, not just your tiny Guide stipend! Probably more than me! 

“And I promised you when we bonded, baby. I promised that if you trusted me enough to bond fully with me, I would make sure you didn’t regret it. 

“And I hope you don’t, baby...” but his words had been cut short as Blair captured his mouth with a deep and loving kiss.  


\---------------------------  


Carefully carrying the full tray up the stairs, Jim placed it on the nightstand before perching gently on the side of the bed, wanting to watch his beautiful Guide sleep for a few more minutes. 

Holding his hand millimetres above the soft curls that tumbled over the pillow, Jim soaked up the warmth that his sensitive touch was able to pick up, and, closing his eyes, he recalled with perfect clarity their tender bonding and lovemaking the previous evening. 

He pictured Blair’s beautiful body spread willingly out for him to touch, taste and imprint, grateful that all of Blair’s limbs were now unencumbered by any unwanted articles, and that in itself brought a smile of satisfaction to Jim’s face.  


\----------------  


Just two days after Jim had been discharged from hospital, Simon had called round, wanting to check up on his friend, and also to perform a task that he felt he should do himself. 

Having been seated comfortably beside Jim’s bed, and supplied with a coffee by a rather nervous Blair, Simon had addressed the pair, not without a little self-deprecation. 

“It’s good to see you looking alert, if not unmarred, Jim,” he began. “We were really worried about you – both of you – for a while, but I have to say that Blair’s courage and determination really won the day, as far as I’m concerned,” and he couldn’t help but chuckle at Blair’s blushing response. 

“It’s OK, kid. You don’t have to worry that I’ll be getting all gushing and embarrass you in front of Jim! But seriously, you impressed me, Sandburg. I didn’t think you were good enough for Jim – and you can stop growling at me like that, Ellison! But I’m glad to be proven wrong. And because of that, I think you deserve to be free of that thing!” and he nodded towards Blair’s ankle, where the tracker nestled beneath his pant cuff. 

“If you’ll just park yourself on the bed where I can reach you, I have the key right here, so let’s get rid of it. I trust you, kid. After seeing how you tried to protect Jim, and how you cared for him in the hospital, I trust you never to run,” and without further ado, he unlocked the ankle bracelet, and shoved it into his coat pocket. 

Seeing that both his friends were somewhat overwhelmed and distracted in their own way, he didn’t prolong his visit, but left the apartment with a lighter heart, knowing that he had come to terms with the new relationship. He realised now that he had a place in both men’s affection, should he choose to embrace it, and he was ready and willing to kick his unfounded jealousy into touch.   


\---------------------  


Soft snuffles and twitches quickly brought Jim back to the present, as he watched his Guide gradually wake up. Admitting to himself that there was nothing more attractive to him than a sleepy and well-loved Guide, Jim smiled, face suffused with love as Blair emerged from the blankets, hair every which way, and eyes still slightly crossed in an adorable expression as he tried to focus on the figure perched beside him on the bed. 

“Hey, man. Is it morning already? And can I smell coffee?” At Jim’s affirmative, an elegant hand appeared, fingers wiggling as the tousled munchkin pleaded, “Gimme, gimme!” 

Managing to take a few swallows of the precious elixir without spilling a drop on the sheets, Blair revived enough to sit up properly, eyeing his lover critically as he said, “Don’t tell me you’ve brought me breakfast in bed? What did I do to deserve this? And, more to the point, did you go out to fetch this?? What about your leg, Jim? You _know_ you’re not supposed to overdo it...!” 

Laughing delightedly at his Guide’s worried scolding, and even more at his perplexed expression, Jim quickly placed his hand over the lush mouth before saying, “One! Yes, Mother Hen, I have brought _us_ breakfast in bed! 

“Two! You deserve it for caring for me unstintingly for three weeks, despite my bad temper and ill-mannered griping. 

“And Three! Yes, I did go to the bakery. But I really needed the exercise, baby, and it’s a lovely morning out there for a change. Not only that, but seeing as we’re both going in to the PD tomorrow, I thought it was time I got my lazy ass in motion. So, stop worrying, and enjoy your blueberry muffin!” 

Head tilted to one side, Blair contemplated his lover for a few moments, then grabbed his plate, taking a large bite of the tempting treat and chewing appreciatively before saying cheerily, “OK. Fine. Sounds good to me!” and he wiggled his eyebrows cheekily at Jim, inordinately pleased to witness the older man’s initial bemusement at this unexpected response. 

However, as he saw Jim’s eyes narrow in reaction to his impertinence, he muttered, “Uh, oh!” and put his plate down even as he eyed up the best escape route. 

Too late! Jim pounced, tickling his prey unmercifully as he muttered, “You little shit! I’m going to get you for that – and you’re going to love every minute!” 

And Blair did. 

Snuggled together in the lazy aftermath of their passion, Jim murmured into the curly head tucked beneath his chin, “You OK, baby? ‘Cos I gotta say, that was the best yet.” 

He was answered by a tiny nod and, “Hmmmmm, mmmm!” from a sated and happy Guide who was for once way too comfortable to offer a more verbose response. 

Congratulating himself on a job well done, Jim settled down to take another nap, toying with a few last thoughts before he followed Blair into slumber. 

Trust. It was all down to trust. The rock-solid foundation of their relationship. 

Certainly he knew that Blair was still far from over his fear responses and the conditioning forced upon him by his prolonged captivity and abuse, further exacerbated by the trauma of the most recent incident. However, with Jim’s whole-hearted agreement, they were both committed to having sessions both individually and jointly with a reputable psychiatrist of their choice for as long as they needed. 

Through the shared intimacy of their bond, Blair knew for sure that he had Jim’s full support and love, even as he had for Jim, and furthermore, Jim was perfectly confident that his Guide would never run from him now, whatever the circumstances. Despite his upbringing, his fears and his bitter experience, Blair had fallen deeply in love with Jim the man as well as being totally committed to Jim his Sentinel, such that not even Naomi and her fellow activists could have lured him away. 

Neither of them expected the future to be easy or straight-forward, or that their lives together would be nothing but a bed of roses, but as Blair had whispered in Jim’s ear only last night, “I trust you, man. Trust means everything to me now, and without trust, there’s nothing.” 

And as he drifted contentedly into sleep, Jim thought that he couldn’t agree more.  


**THE END.**


End file.
